A Death In The Family
by Phaze
Summary: A death has occurred in Smallville, but as Clark soon discovers, not all is, as it seems when you are dealing with the Luthors. *COMPLETED*
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:**  These characters are on loan from the Smallville television series and the DC Comics Group with out permission and are not my property.  They belong to the Warner Brothers Empire, which include the WB network, and DC Comics.  No harm or malice is intended.

I would like to thank Christin Haney for her work and dedication to making my work look good. And to Macayla Jo Adams for all her grammar and editing suggestions.  I thank them along with Holly (Sasa), Ruth Despirito and Karen Poitras for all their support and inspiration.

Thank you for taking the time to read and please enjoy.  Comments are always welcomed.

A death has occurred in Smallville, but as Clark soon discovers, not all is, as it seems when you are dealing with the Luthors

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Smallville:  A Death In The Family: Part One: Chapter One TC \l1 "

**DEATH**

(This story takes place about a week after Tempest.  The events from the season finale will be pretty much ignored, and I am working on the assumption that everything will work out.)

   The Kent family farm house on the outskirts of Smallville, located in Lowell County Kansas.  The night was crisp and clean with a gentle breeze blowing across the corn filled planes.  The Kents kept several heads of milking cattle on their modest farm, but on cool clear nights like this one, it was the smell of the wild flowers and crab grass with a distinct odor of fresh hay in close proximity that caught your attention first.  All these smells and the cool night air were why two young men sat out on the hood of the late model Porsche' in the front yard's dirt paved driveway.

   It had been a few months short of a full year since the two young men had met, but they had become close friends in the short time.  Clark was fifteen and the adopted son of Jonathan and Martha Kent who owned the farm.  He was tall with dark features and a wide smile across his handsome face, while Lex Luthor, son to the Billionaire Lionel Luthor, was only close in height to Clark. Instead, he was lighter in complexion, completely bald, and six years his younger friends senior.  The two were from different worlds completely, but had some how forged a relationship based on their differences rather than their likenesses.

   They each sat in the same position that they had for the last twenty minutes just talking and sharing a few laughs when the older Kent, Jonathan, stuck his head pass the screen door at the front of the house.

   "Clark," he called to his son.

   "Yeah, Dad?"  Clark answered from a few feet away.

   "Your Mother and I are going up to bed," he told his son.  "Be sure to lock up when you get in.  Don't stay out there too late either.  You have school in the morning."

   "Sure, Dad," Clark replied politely with a small wave of his hand.  "Lex and I were just saying good night."

   "Good night, Mr. Kent," Lex called out.

   Jonathan grunted and closed the door as he stepped back into the house.

   "That was warm," Lex gave Clark a fake grin.

   Clark laughed.  "He's actually getting better," he told his friend.  "There was a time I would have never gotten you a dinner invitation.  He's really thawing."

   "We were doing better before the chemical spill on your land that killed all those cows a few months back," Lex remembered.

**   "I know, and I think he really believes that you were not involved, but it's hard for my dad to let go some times," Clark gritted his teeth at the thought**

   "My dad is the same way," Lex said back looking at his watch.  "It's nearly half past eleven.  You guys should be reverting back to pumpkins any minute now, so I guess I'll let you go to bed."

   "There's no hurry," Clark said.  "You never did tell me what you thought of the movie we watched."

   "I'll admit, I didn't think it was all too bad, but why The Outsiders?"  Lex asked.  "Is there some type of message in there for me?"  He gave Clark his best-raised eyebrow suspicious look.

   "You mean like you being the perfect outsider, yourself?"  Clark joked.

   "I guess," Lex replied.  "Then again, if I were to be a greaser I would have to have something to but the grease in, like hair," he ran his hand over his head to illustrate the point.

   "Yeah you are a little lacking in that department," Clark laughed again.

   "All right, Pony Boy," Lex warned.  "Only you would believe that by putting some grease in the hair of a bunch of Hollywood pretty boys and shoving a cigarette in their mouths they make a believable street gang."

   "It was the fifties, Lex," Clark reminded him.  "It's not suppose to be the Bloods and Crips or whatever they are called.  It's based on a book."

   "I know, S E Hinton's Outsiders.  I read the book when I was in high school, too," Lex told him.

   "Then you know why I rented the movie."

   "Because the Cliffs Notes were too involved?"  Lex coaxed with a playfully suspicious eye.

   "No," Clark laughed trying to conceal his amusement at the dumb joke.  "I actually read the book, but I wanted to compare it with the movie.  I even got extra credit for my in-depth comparison of the two.  My teacher thought it was a creative approach to the project."

   "So why show me?"  Lex asked looking away like he was unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

   "Because I wanted a reason to invite you over and give my folks a chance to warm up to you, and I thought you might enjoy watching it," Clark explained.

   "And since my own father has been in town for the last few days nagging me about the plant, you thought it would be the perfect time to get me away from the old guy before we ended up killing each other," Lex explained, making a forwarding motion with his hand.

   "And a clever plan it was," Clark grinned shaking his index finger.

   "Well I have to give you credit.  Two hours of flexed muscles, chiseled faces, and a young Tom Cruise is really the way to make a pale, bald guy with father issues feel special," Lex remarked with a grin.

   "Oh come on, Lex," Clark gently pushed him.  "You enjoyed it.  Admit it.  I even saw you tear up when Ralph Machio died near the end."

   "I was all emotional because the end wasn't coming soon enough," He joked.

   "Fine, have it your way," Clark slid off the hood.  "I know your secret now.  You have a weakness for dead teenagers in old movies.  Maybe next time you come over I'll show a Little House on Prairie marathon.  I think a kid either died or went blind every other week on that show."

   "Next time I pick the movie, Kent," Lex slid off the other side.  "How about Urban Legends?"

   "That movie was so lame, Lex."  Clark sighed.  "I mean the guy in the bathroom with the Drainoe was so stupid, and talk about bad acting."

   "I thought he was rather good," Lex said back.

   "Whatever," Clark shrugged.

   "I guess I should be going now," Lex said.  "The light in your folk's bedroom is still on.  I would hate for them to lose their sleep over me."

   "Okay," Clark smiled.  "So you did like the whole movie night thing?"  He spread his arms waiting for and answer.

  "I had a good time, Clark," Lex smiled back with a small boy's charm and opened his door.

   "Good night, Lex," Clark stepped back.

   Lex slipped into his seat and roller down the passenger's side window.  "Stay gold, Pony Boy."  He grinned.

   "Do I look like a Pony Boy to you, Lex?" Clark leaned down to look in the window.

   "Well, I always did say you could be a nag," Lex gave him one last joke and a big evil grin.

   "Owe," Clark slapped himself in the head.  "That was so bad."

   Lex revved the engine and then skidded out of the driveway grinding his gears.

   Clark stood in the cloud of dust as he watched the taillights disappear into the night.

   The night slipped by like a blink of an eye for Clark and the next morning he dragged him self out of bed and followed his usual daily rituals of a shower and hygiene needs followed by his farm chores.  It was nearly an hour later with the sun peaking over the plains when he made his way back into the house for a quick breakfast before his bus ride to school.

   Martha was standing in the corner talking on the phone with a worried look on her face when both Clark and Jonathan came into the country style kitchen.

   "I'll fix the east fence when I get home this afternoon, before homework."  He was telling his father when he saw his mother's concerned look.  She held her finger up to him.

   "Chloe," She said into the receiver.  "Clark just came in the door.  Do you want to tell him yourself?"

   She was silent and nodded her head slightly listening to the response.  "I understand," She replied.  "I'll tell him, and you please call if you learn more."

   "Tell me what?"  Clark questioned as she hung up the phone.

   Martha turned back and stood silent for a moment.  She seemed to be searching for the right words in her head.

   "What's wrong, Mom?"  Clark asked with a concern gesture.  "Is Chloe alright?"

   "Chloe is fine," She finally said.  "She was calling with news her father gave her about Lex."

   "Lex?"  Clark repeated.  "What news does she have on Lex?"  His words were coming quicker and more uneven.

   Martha turned her worried stare at Jonathan and then back to Clark.

   "Mom, you're scaring me here.  Is he okay?"  Clark's hands began to shake

   "There has been an accident," She let the words slip out.  "Lex was in a accident on his way home last night."

   Clark stiffened up from the shock.  "How bad?"  He asked softly.

   "Really bad from the sound of it," She told him.  "They had to heliport him to Metropolis General.  All Chloe's father knows is that he was unconscious the whole time, and then they had to rush him into surgery."

   "Oh, my God," Clark stepped back with a stagger.

   "Clark," Jonathan reached to hold his son up.

   "I have to go to Metropolis," Clark said in a dazed state.

   "Of course," Martha agreed touching his face softly.

   "We'll drive you," Jonathan added.

   "I can run."  He said while his head was reeling with the possibilities.

   "And get there before any car ride ever could," Martha pointed out.  "I think it's best to play this at normal speed this time and drive."

   "It will give you time to get over the shock, son," Jonathan told him.  "You need time to let this sink in before you see him."

   Clark could not focus his sight on anything.  His eyes roamed the room as he spoke.  "He was fine when he left here last night," Clark said to his father.  "I always warned him about driving recklessly."

   "Lex is his own man, Clark," Jonathan took his arms again.  "He always does what he wants."

   Clark seemed to be slipping from shock into grief as his eyes began to water up.  He matched his father's gaze for a few seconds.  "What if he dies, Dad?"  He said with a grunt.  "What if Lex dies?"

   "Hey," Jonathan pulled him into a hug.  "Don't go there, son.  We don't even know how bad it is yet.  Let's just concentrate on getting to the hospital."

   "Your father is right, Clark," Martha came around and began to lead them to the door.  "Lex is young and healthy.  He can make it through anything."

   "I pray you're right, Mom," Clark said taking one last look at her as they left the house.

   The ride to the large city of Metropolis, several miles away, had taken longer than any other trip to the city that Clark could remember, yet in truth, Jonathan had cut a good ten minutes off the trip even after swinging by the high school to inform Clark's teachers that Clark would not be in today.  Clark made his way into the emergency room and then up to the ICU floor where he was instructed Lex would be just now coming out of recovery from the surgery.  Jonathan and Martha rushed to keep up with him.

   The three walked though the Intensive Care Unit's doors when a nurse at the nurse's station, located in the center of the large hall encircled by small glass cubical rooms, looked up at them.  "May I help you?"  She asked.

   "Lex Luthor."  Clark said in a hurried voice.  "We are looking for Lex Luthor."

   "Are you family?"  She questioned.

   "No, he's a very good friend of mine," he said with a concerned stare.

   "Then I am sorry, Sir.  Only family can be in here," The nurse told him with a strong sense of authority.

   "But…." Clark was about to protest when Jonathan took his arm.

   "The nurse is right," Jonathan said.   "We should see if we can find Lionel Luthor for any more information."

   "I don't want information, Dad," Clark turned to his father with frustration.  "I want to see Lex."

   "Without Lionel's permission, you can't," Martha added. 

   Clark looked at both of his parents.  After a few seconds, his better judgment set in and he agreed with them.  "Okay.  He knows Lex and I are close friends.  He'll let me see him," Clark grabbed at his hair with his right hand trying not to get stressed out.

   "Of course," Jonathan said with his voice, but his eyes and thoughts were contradictory to his words.

   They were walking to the waiting room outside of the unit, when Lionel Luthor walked into the large hall accompanied by three men in suits and two doctors in hospital scrubs.  One looked like he had a small stain of blood on his slacks.  Clark wondered if he was the one who had preformed the surgery and if that was Lex's blood.

   "Mr. Luthor," Clark stopped in front of him.  "How is Lex?  They won't let me see him."

   Luthor looked up at the younger man with a sneer.  Clark was well aware that he did not approve of his and Lex's friendship.  Lex was the son to a wealthy businessman and he aspired his son to greater things in life.  Why would he be wasting his time with the son of a lowly dirt farmer?  A dirt farmer who Lionel himself had had dealings with in the past.    "You have a nerve being here, Kent.  After what you did to my son last night," he grunted out between his snarls.

   "What?"  Clark was shocked.

   "Hold it right there, Lionel," Jonathan stepped in.  "We all know that Lex can drive recklessly.  Just because he had dinner with us before he crashed his car, is no reason to take out your frustration on my son."

   "I blame all of you, Jonathan," Lionel said and shook a bony finger at them.  "What were you thinking about when you let him drive off in that condition?"

   "Condition?"  Clark repeated.  "Lex was fine when he left the house.  He wasn't tired, because it was only eleven thirty.  We have been out together much later than that, more than once.  He was always able to drive with no problem."

   "Even with all that alcohol in his system?"  Lionel asked with piercing eyes.

   "What?"  Clark spat.

   "Lex did not have any alcohol at our house, Lionel," Jonathan told him trying to set space between Lionel and Clark by placing his arm between them.  "I don't even keep beer in the house on a regular basis.  I can assure you that he was not drunk when he left our farm."

   "Lex Luthor had a alcohol reading well over the legal limit when he was brought in last night, sir," The middle-aged doctor with the stain scrubs spoke up.  "We had to treat him for possible alcohol poisoning before we could begin surgery."

   "That's nuts," Clark said loudly.  "Lex did not drink, and he would never drive under the influence either."

   "I think I will take the doctor's word over my son's teenage playmate," Lionel told him with an evil look.  "Keep all your high school secrets from your parents all you want, young man, but do not allow my family to be harmed by your juvenile behavior ever again."

   "You have a big mouth with deep pockets," Jonathan stepped in again.  "Don't you ever talk to my son like that again, and don't you ever accuse him of something without substantiated evidence."

   "The Smallville police will get the evidence," Lionel told Jonathan with another sneer.  "I had a warrant sworn out to search your property and trash bins this morning.  They should be going through your garbage right about now."  

   "They can search all they want," Clark spoke up.  "There are no empty bottles to find."

   "Don't forget whom you are talking to son," Jonathan said crossing his arms in a defiant stance.  "If Lionel Luthor wants them to find something, then most likely something will make its way into our trash.  All of this while we are conveniently several miles away, unable to defend our property from tampering."

   "It doesn't matter," Martha joined the conversation with a worried look.  "Lex is of a legal drinking age, and we would have no say over his intake."

   "Not so true, Mrs. Kent," Lionel said.  "Even a bar can now be charged with neglect if they allow their patrons to drive while heavily intoxicated, these days.  If it is proven that you provided my son with the booze that resulted in this accident, then you are as guilty as any saloon owner who sells to a legally drunk person who has given every indication that he will be getting behind the wheel of a car."

   "You are a sick man, Luthor," Jonathan shot with a snort.

   "Please," Clark shook his head.  "This whole thing is getting out of control.  Think or do what ever you want, Mr. Luthor.  Please, just tell me how bad of a shape is Lex in.  Is he going to be alright?"

   Lionel looked at the doctor and then to Clark.  He gave him a careful look over, but said nothing.  He slowly stepped pass the Kents and continued on his way with out any explanations.

   Clark spun around as the others with Lionel also walked pass.  "Please," He said with a pleading voice.

   "I'm sorry," The nurse approached them.  "I need to ask you to leave now.  We cannot be having these outbursts on this floor.  We have sick patients who need their rest."

   Martha took Clark's arm gently.  "Come on, Clark.  We'll go wait in the waiting room, and maybe they will give us some information after Lionel calms down."

   Down the hall, Lionel pulled open the curtains to one of the small cubical rooms encircling them and Clark got a small glimpse of Lex's unconscious form laying in the bed with all types of tubes and wires connected to him.  He was badly bruised, and his left arm seemed to be in a cast.  He tried to take in as much as he could when the curtains were drawn again.  Lionel had not even given him a backwards glance.

TO BE CONTINUED:

*** Thank you for reading the first chapter of my new story.  Your comments and reviews are welcomed, but please be nice.  I hope to include a small paragraph at the end of each chapter to answer any questions if need be.  This is the first time I have begun posting a story before I have finished all the chapters, but I promise to do my best to get them out as quickly as possible.  So please sit back, continue to read and enjoy the journey as we travel along with Clark, Lex and the gang.

My best wishes for you, and God blessing on all of you.

Phaze   ***


	2. Chapter Two

A Death In The Family Part One: Chapter Two:

   It was a few hours later when Clark was making his ten thousand nine hundred and fifty-seventh pass by his seated mother in his hurried pacing when Chloe Sullivan, Clark's blond hair, blue eyed, female, high school news paper friend, entered the room with Pete Ross right behind her.  Pete and Clark had been friends almost since the first day either of them could remember.  He was a wise cracking, African American, young man who held a small resentment to Lex for stealing Clark's attention away from him.

   "I think that section of the carpet is at least two shade lighter now," Chloe said standing before Clark.  "Why don't you just drop a bottle of bleach over it?  It would go a lot faster and would save the wear and tear on your shoes."

   Clark looked down at his feet to find she had greatly exaggerated the situation.

   "Chloe, Pete, it's so nice of you to come," Martha smiled as she looked up at them.

   "Mrs. Kent," Pete smiled back.

   "Did you go by the house like we asked?"  Jonathan joined them from across the room.

   "I'm afraid so," She answered with a worried look.  "There were police all over the property, and they were taking things out of you trash bin.  We heard the distinct sounds of large bottles clacking together from inside the bags."

   Clark gave his father a worried glance.  "We didn't drink anything, Dad."

   "I know, son," Jonathan said back.  "This is how the Luthors deal with things.  Get the attention away from themselves, even if it means breaking the law or incriminating others."

   "What will happen now?"  Pete asked.

  Most likely, what ever Lionel wants to happen," Jonathan told them with a sigh.  "We are in his web, weather we like it or not."  

   "Well, how is Lex?"  Chloe asked noticing Clark's distant look at the mention of the name.

   "We haven't heard anything," Martha fielded the question for her son.  "We are just sitting here hoping that Lionel will tell us something so we can go home."

   Clark seemed to snap to attention again.  "I just had an idea, and you two can help me," he smiled at his two friends.

   "What are you planning, Clark?"  Jonathan, with his concerned Dad Look, asked.

   Clark turned his father.  "I won't be able to rest until I see him, Dad," he told him.  "I saw Lionel Luthor leave a few minutes ago, and now Lex is alone in there.  If Chloe and Pete can create a diversion, I can sneak pass the nurses and get into Lex's room.  I can see him and maybe get some information from his charts while I am there."

   "This is risky, Clark," Martha warned.

   A hurt but determined look came over Clark's face.  "I have to do this," he said.  "I need to see Lex, and he needs to know we are pulling for him."

   After a few more minutes of whispers and planning in the small waiting room just outside the ICU unit, Clark, Chloe and Pete determined that they had a plan, and began to enact it.

   Chloe and Pete were the first to walk into the unit through the large automatic doors.  She had pulled a notepad and pen from her large shoulder bags containing her lap top computer among other things, and Pete held up a camera and instantly began snapping pictures of the entire ICU.  They walked in like they owned the placed, and made enough commotion to alert the nurses at the nurse's station that they had arrived.

   "Get pictures of as many beds as possible," Chloe said as they made their approach to the center of the hall.

   "Excuse me," one of the nurses said from the desk.  "You can not be in here."

   "This will only take a minute," Chloe smiled snapping her gum.  "My name is Polly Purebred with the Inquisitor.  Rumor has it that you have in your care one Alexander Luthor, son to that stunningly handsome billionaire Lionel Luthor."  She nearly had to choke her description of Lionel out of her mouth.

   "If Mr. Luthor were here, I can assure you that we could not confirm it for you," the young red headed female nurse said.  "And we never allow pictures on this floor."  She placed her hand over Pete's lenses.

   "Oh, come on, dear," Chloe waved her pen.  "There could be a commission in this for you."

   "You need to leave," Said a second nurse who joined them.

   "We won't bother no one," Pete said walking over to the nearest cubical.  "Is baby Warbucks in here?"  He pulled the drape back, but was consciously careful to not disrupt the person on the other side.  This was an act, and he had no desire to risk anyone's health to pull off the stunt.

   "Please," the second nurse, an African American young woman closed the curtain.  "These people need their rest."

   "Let's check this one, Joe," Chloe walked around the first nurse to a cubical in the opposite direction.

   "Sure thing, Polly," Pete flipped his ball cap around on his head so the visor was facing backwards, and began clicking away.

   The two nurses who were alone on the floor followed them off in a distant direction with heavy protest as Clark stuck his head through the door and made his way into the large hall.  He identified the cubical that Lionel had gone into early that day, and made a direct approach hoping that the nurses would not turn away from their argument with Chloe and Pete, to find him sneaking pass the station.

   Clark took a big gulp of air when he reached the room.  His hands were shaking as he pulled on the curtain allowing just enough room for him to slip in.  He wanted to take a second to regain his composure, but there was no time with the nurses only a few yards away.  So in one swift movement, he passed through the opening and stood a few feet away from Lex's bed.

   He lost his breath for a second as he took in the sight of a battered and beaten Lex lying before him.  There was hardly and inch of the young man's body that was not covered in bruises.  He looked so pale and weak under the blotches of blue, purple, yellow, red and black.  It was clear that the car must have rolled over several times and thrown his around like a rag doll inside the cab.  Clark had warned his friend several times of the dangers involved with driving at such high speeds and with out a seat belt.  These warnings had gone un-heard, and now Lex was fighting for his life after taking a beating at his own hands.  A cast covered Lex's left arm as Clark thought he had saw earlier.  He now noticed one over his right leg that went from his ankle up to and over the hipbone.  The respirator tube coming out of his mouth alarmed Clark the most.  He remembered the last memories of his grand father were with a hose down his throat, also.

   Making a short step forward, Clark felt the warm flow of a loose tear roll down his left cheek.  The sight of his best friend in such bad shape had touched him so deeply, that he had started releasing his emotions before he was even aware.

   His second step brought Clark to the bed's railing where he stood about mid way centered at Lex's side.  He wiped away the stray tear and attempted to focus on his friend's body.  Straining his eyes, he used his x-ray vision and searched Lex over from head to foot.

   After only a few seconds, Clark exhaled heavily and fell forward catching himself on the rail.  This time his tears did not catch him by surprise, he wept as he thought about what he had seen in the short time he allowed himself.  Lex's body was as beaten on the inside as he was on the out side.  He had several serious head injuries and a slightly dislocated disc at the foot of his scull where it meets the spine.  The neck brace was holding his head still and the disc in place.  Pins were jetting out of at least three places where the casts on his leg and arm were holding him and them together, and it was clear that his lungs and several other organs had been stitched within the last few hours.  All of this Clark saw with out even trying to get a full view.

   "Lex," he spoke his friend's name.  "I'm so sorry.  How could you let this happen?"

   Clark leaned over him to see if there was any indication that Lex knew he was there.  His gaze was met with silence and the loud beeping of the many machines that surrounded them.

   "What happened to you?"  He asked with a soft tone.  "Where did you go after you left my house last night?  And why would you drive in such bad shape?  I know you; you are much too smart to do something so stupid."

   A pang hit Clark in his chest.  Here Lex was fighting for his life, and he was questioning his best friend's abilities and intelligence.

   "I'm sorry, Lex," Clark added.  "I just can't believe you would drive while drunk.  What happen to put you in this shape?"  The remorse was heavy on his brow.

   The silence over the hums and beeps of the machines was deafening for Clark.  He reached over and put his middle and index fingers on the small part of Lex's forehead that was not covered with bruises or welts.  

   "Do you feel that, Lex?"  He asked as a droplet of tear fell on Lex's hospital shirt.  "That my hand reaching out to touch you.  It is reaching across 'the divide' to wherever you are to guide you back.  Follow my hand back, Lex.  I'm here waiting for you."

   Clark wiped his face against his sleeve of the arm that was leaning on the rail.  "In my church," he continued.  "We believe that if anyone is hurt or sick, then you can lay hands on them and pray for a healing like they did back in the Bible days.  I've seen it done a lot and have been told how people who were sick found themselves feeling better right after.  My Pastor says he has witnessed blind eyes suddenly being able to see and crippled people getting up to walk.  So I know it can be done, and I believe."

   He looked up again at the unchanged face of his friend.  "I am not some great pillar of faith, but I want to pray for you, Lex," Clark said in a controlled, crying voice.  "I know that God will heal you if you let him.  Believe that you can be healed, Lex."

   Clark's words were being choked away by his tears, but still he began to pour his heart and soul into his prayer.  He pleaded and cried to the great Lord above, and even spoke in the holy tongues for a short while, as spoken about in the Bible.  He prayed and asked for complete healing for his friend.

   Then after several minutes, after tiring himself out, Clark stopped and gently placed both hands over Lex's chest.  He looked into his face.  "My Dad said that people spend too much time talking to the mind when something goes wrong," he said.  "He told me the best way to get through to someone is to talk to the heart.  Both in spirit and in actuality, so here goes."  He leaned his head against his hands as not to apply any pressure to his frail form, opened a small space between them and spoke into Lex's chest. "Please don't die, Lex," he said; the words soft and clear into Lex's heart.

    When he had finished another short prayer, Clark heard the curtain being drawn and the doctor he spoke to earlier was standing there looking at him.

   "What are you doing here?"  The balding middle-aged man asked.  "Where is Mr. Luthor's guard?"

   "There was no guard," Clark told him, honestly.  "I snuck in while the nurses were not looking."

   "Well," the doctor spoke, sizing him up.  "You will have to leave now.  Mr. Luthor senior gave very clear instructions that no one was to be in here.  I believe you were one of his prime targets in that order."

   "Please," Clark wiped away a dried tear.  "I needed to see him for myself.  I know he looks bad, but could you please tell me more?  Is he really as bad as he looks?"

   The doctor looked him over again and then back at Lex.

   "Please, Doctor Burns," he read his identification tags.  "Lex is my best friend.  Don't you remember when your parents didn't approve of all your friends?  It still didn't make them any less important to you."

   Doctor Burns ran his hand over his head as he considered his plead for information.

   "He's very bad," He finally said.  "I'm afraid that we were able to patch your friend up as best as we could, but there was a lot of injury to critical points in his head."

   Clark took a quick glance back at Lex with hurt in his eyes.  "What does that mean for him?"  He asked turning back.

   Dr. Burns took a deep breath before answering.  "We are running more conclusive tests, but at this point, all indications show that Mr. Luthor has no brain activity to speak of."

   Clark felt the vile in his stomach reach its peak and touch the back of his throat.  He knew what the doctor was telling him, and the thought was making him physically ill.

   "Brain dead?"  Clark squeaked out.

   Burns said nothing but allowed his gaze to drift to the floor.

   Clark had to steady himself against the glass wall behind him.  "This can't be happening," He whispered.

   The doctor gave him a moment to let the idea sink in, and he then spoke again.  "I am sorry, young man.  I need to ask you to leave again.  Mr. Luthor would not want you in here."

   He took Clark's arm and led him to the entrance.  He was in no shape to put up a fight and followed.

   "Wait," Clark stopped.  "I need to know."  He looked into the doctor's eyes.  "What happens if the test come back showing that Lex is brain dead?"  The words tasted as horrible in his mouth as the vile did.

   "Then Mr. Luthor will have to decide weather to continue life support systems or not," his words were short and decisive.

   Clark quickly spun around and looked back through the opened curtain at Lex.  "No."  

   The automatic doors whisked open with Jonathan and Martha Kent standing behind them.

   "Please, son," Doctor Burns pulled his arm one last time.

   Clark began to tug himself away.  "Please let me stay with him.  He can't be brain dead.  I'll prove it."

   By that time the two nurses who were no longer preoccupied with Pete and Chloe came over and helped Dr. Burns pull on Clark to remove him from the ward.  They were tugging with all their might but could not get him to budge an inch.

   Clark simply looked back at Lex with a lost look in his eyes.  He made no effort to move either way.

   "Mr. Kent," The doctor called to his parents in the outer lobby.

   Both Jonathan and Martha ran to Clark's side.

   "Honey," Martha took his wet face in her hands.  "You are not doing Lex any good by disturbing his doctors."

   "They say he's brain dead, Ma," Clark said between heavy breaths.  "They are talking about disconnecting life support." 

   Martha looked over at Jonathan who was tugging on his son's arm.

   Clark was about to pull away when he heard his father whisper in his ear.  "Son, stop this before you hurt someone."

   The realization of who he was and what he could do hit Clark with those words.  He stopped pulling and allowed himself to be taken into his mother's arms.

   "It's okay, baby," She said softly.  "Everything will be okay."

   "Lex can't die, Ma," Clark told her.  "He just can't."

   It took a few minutes to collect him self enough to be lead back to the waiting room.  After they had all left the hall, Lionel Luthor came out of a nearby cubical with a foam cup of coffee in his hand.

   "I am so sorry about that," Doctor Burns apologized.  "I assure you he will not be able to get back in here again."

   "I am sure," Lionel gave him a cold stare.  "Find that security guard and send him packing, and then get a new man up here to guard my son's room.  I will not have his health jeopardized any further."

   "Of course, Mr. Luthor," Burns groveled as he darted away.

   Chloe, Pete, Martha and Jonathan kept a close vigil over Clark as he sat in the corner of the waiting room.  All their efforts to offer him a ride home were denied.  He did not want to leave his friend, even if he was not allowed to be at his side.

   Chloe decided to make the first approach towards him.  She sat on the chair to the left of where he was seated.  She gave him a quick, polite smile.

   "Hey," she grunted.

   "Hey," he replied softly.

   "So, how long do you plan to do this vigilant thing?"  She asked with a worried look.

   Clark looked at her for the first time.  "You don't think I should be here either, do you?"  

   "I didn't say that at all," she said putting her hands up in a mock defense.  "I just think everyone is worried about you right now, and we would feel better if you weren't wound so tight."

   "You all want me to walk away from Lex?"  He asked with a hurt look.

   "No," Chloe touched his arm softly.  Her hands brushed against his biceps.  She had almost forgotten how attracted she was to this little boy who was showing through the man.  She wanted to take him into her arms and comfort him, but she knew Clark would not allow that from her.  

   Chloe shook off her thoughts of anguish and spoke again.  "We want you to take care of yourself.  Right now Lionel doesn't want you to see Lex, and he's too upset with you hanging around to change his mind.  Maybe if you went home and came back later, or tomorrow, he might have a change of heart."

   "I can't leave, Chloe," he said as a tear formed in his eye.  "Now, may be the only time Lex has left.  I can't leave him."

   Chloe ran her hand through his thick dark hair.  "You're a really good friend, Clark."

   "I may be the only friend Lex ever had," Clark said softly in her ear.  "He told me once that I was the closest thing he had to a real friend.  Lionel is cold and distant to him and with his mother gone, I am pretty much the only connection he has to staying in the world of the living."

   Chloe could see that his words were true and honest.  She knew that Lex was a loner, for the most part, but even she was unaware of how much.

   "I know you and Pete feel left out some times, but I guess I sorta made Lex my mission in life," Clark explained as he studied his hands.  "I know what it's like to be different and alone inside, but I always had Pete and now you to help keep me in the light.  Lex has no one, and I think he tends to walk on the dark side when there's no one to call him on his actions."

   "Clark Kent, hero to the down and out," Chloe joked.  "You have a real hero complex going for yourself, Clark."

   Clark smiled for the first time all morning.

   "May I ask you to do me a favor?"  She asked in her worried, mom look.

   He always liked the way Chloe tried to take control of his life when she thought he was troubled.  Most people would find it annoying, but Clark found it endearing.  The fact that he figured out long ago that he could easily out-run or ditch her at any given moment also helped to keep him comfortable with her intrusions.

   "Sure," he beamed her his best smile, possible.

   "Please take care of yourself," she said.  "You worrying yourself sick is not going to help Lex, and in the end will make this whole thing harder on your folks."

   Clark took notice of Jonathan and Martha reading the outdated magazines across the room.  They had no reason to really be there, other than to lend him support.  Clark always felt he had the best parents in the world, and today he was sure of it.

   "Are they worried?"  He asked, whispering to her.

   "They are your parents, what do you think?"  Chloe gave him a rye look.  "You are like the kid from another planet to them right now.  They know how much you care about Lex.  So they are hanging around waiting to hear on the condition of a man they don't even particularly like.  Not to mention that Lex's father is incriminating them on this whole drunk driving thing while they are here unable to protect themselves."

   Clark buried his face in his hands.  "I keep thinking that this can't be happening, and then I opening my eyes again and here I am again."

   He was lifting his head when he saw a worried Lana Lang and her boyfriend, Whitney Fordman enter the room.  The momentary jump in Clark's heart went flat at the sight of his life long dream girl with her super jock date.  

   Lana was everything Clark had ever thought he wanted in a girl with her long dark hair, milky complexion and slightly Asian features. She had held a special place in his young heart ever since the first day his boyish desires took interest in girls.  He wanted to run to her and let her hold him in her arms, but the sight of the blond, muscle bound Whitney who held her arm, turned his wish to ashes.

   Chloe could sense her moment with Clark was over and pulled away.  Lana had this effect on her whenever the three of them were near each other.  As much as Chloe wanted Clark's interest, she felt she could never compete with the girl of his dreams.

   "I'm sorry we're late," Lana said stopping before Clark and Chloe.  "The acting principal was not happy with so many of us leaving school to check on Lex.  He insisted that I complete my morning classes."

   "Has there been any word?"  Whitney asked stepping up behind her.

   "They are still running tests," Clark said softly.  "So far they have been inconclusive.  The closes they can figure is that he might be... "The words caught in his throat. "He might be brain dead."   His eyes continued to drift to the floor.

   "I'm so sorry," Lana placed her hand on the back of his head.  "I know how much Lex means to you, and he's a pretty nice guy."

   Clark had nothing to say.  He sat silently, rubbing his head with his hands.

   "Is there anything we can do?"  Whitney asked turning to Jonathan and Martha, also.

   "No," Martha stood up.  "You shouldn't have to be here, Whitney.  You have been though so many medical issues in your own family for the last few months.  You shouldn't have to be here worrying about Lex, too."  She placed her tender hand on his arm.

   "Actually, Lex has been a pretty nice guys to me," He gave Clark a quick look as the two remembered when Whitney was coaxed into robbing Lex a few months back.  Lex knew that he was one of the thugs, but never pressed charges or even mentioned it after the fact.  Whitney always wondered how much of Lex's decision not to pursue the issue was Clark's doing.

   Lana took the seat across from Clark and took his hands.  "I know this must be hard on you, Clark.  I know how it feels to watch someone you love die. I will never forget the anguish I went through when my parents died." 

   Clark's body tensed up for a moment.  "Please don't do that," he let out with a soft sigh.

   "Do what?"  She asked.

   "Please don't make this about your parents again," Clark let the words slip pass his lips.  "This is nothing like you went through with them.  I know it was hard watching them get killed in front of your eyes, and I am sorry you had to see it, but this is not the same thing."

   Clark looked up from his hands and looked deeply into her eyes.  He knew his words were cutting deep into her, but he had already come too far to stop.  He needed to tell her what he was thinking, if not for her, then to clear the air once and for all on this matter.

   "It was a brief moment in your life, a life time ago," his eyes seemed slightly colder.  "You were three years old.  You barely knew them and then they were gone.  Lex and I have been trying hard to build a real friendship in the last several months.  I know it doesn't compare to a parent-child bond, but right now I can still remember every word we ever spoke.  I can see his eyes behind those closed eyelids in there, in my mind.  I see him vital and alive in my head, because ten minutes ago, he was.  He's not a memory, Lana.  He's my friend dying in the very next room.  So please don't give me the little girl lost story, again."

   Clark jumped out of his chair.  His juices were flowing, and he needed to calm himself.

   "Clark," Martha cautioned from across the room.

   "It's all right, Mrs. Kent," Lana brushes a tear away.  "Clark is right.  I don't really know what it feels like to watch someone die slowly, but it doesn't mean I don't care."

   Clark turned back to her with a hurt look.  He got down on one knee and took her hands like she had done for him.  "I'm sorry, Lana," he said with a soft gentle voice.  "I guess I am just a little over emotional right now, but I do care about you, and I am telling you this because I care."

   Clark took a deep breath glancing at the floor before returning her stare again.  "You once told me that everyone thinks of you as the little fairy princess girl on that Time magazine cover who just lost her parents, but in truth, that is partly your doing."  A tear rolled down Clark's cheek as he explained.  "You may not see it, Lana, but maybe everyone sees you as that little girl, because that is where you have been living the last twelve years.  Do you realize that hardly a week goes by when you don't remind someone of your parent's deaths?  I know you will always live with that, but you have to stop living in that memory.  You need to move on, Lana."

   Chloe watched in amazement from behind Clark.  She had never seen him talk to Lana so directly about her feelings.  Whatever he was going through in his head, Clark was dusting out some corners and clearing the air.

   "I know," Lana wiped away his tear with her thumb.  "Believe it or not, that was not the first time someone has told me that.  I guess I have been using it as a crutch for so long that I forget how to live with out it."

   "You are so much more than the sum of your parent's death, Lana," He took her hand from his face and kissed it.  "Don't ever forget that."

   She gave him a polite smile as if to assure him that she was all right, and he got back up on his feet.  He turned to Whitney who was remarkably quiet through the whole ordeal.

   The two young men stared for a moment at each other, but neither gave any indication as to what he was thinking, so Clark walked passed him and approached the door.

   "I'm going for a walk," He called back.

   "Would you like someone to go with you, son?"  Jonathan asked.

   Clark looked back into the room of his friends.  "No, thanks, I need to clear my head.  I'll be back."

   Chloe moved over to Clark's vacant seat and leaned over to Lana.  "Are you okay?"  She asked.

   "Yeah," Lana wiped away a stray tear.  "If you can't hear the truth from your friends, then who can you hear it from?"

   Chloe held her hand for a moment.

   "Hey, check this out," Pete called from across the room with the remote to the television in his hand.  "Lex is on TV."

   They all turned to the monitor and watched as a picture of Lex flashed behind the anchorman's head.  Pete used the control to raise the volume enough for them to hear.

   "The latest update on the health of the young Alexander Luthor, son to Billionaire environmental tycoon, Lionel Luthor has the younger Luthor listed in critical condition at Metropolis General Hospital, it has come to our attention that Lionel Luthor has called a press conference out side of the hospital's ICU unit in twenty minutes to up date us on his son's condition.  Undisclosed sources have indicated that Alexander's health may be taking a turn for the worst after his violent car crash last night just out side of the Smallville town limits.  We will be carrying the live press conference when it takes place.  So please stay tune to this station for the latest news."

   Pete clicked the remote and turned to the others.  "What do you think this is about?"  He questioned.

   "What ever it is," Jonathan commented, with yet a worried look.  "Knowing Lionel, it can't be good."

   "We should tell Clark," Chloe said.

   "Wait a minute," Lana looked around the room.  "Where did Whitney go?"

   Martha and Jonathan turned to each other with heavy sighs.

TO BE CONTINUED

***Notes ***

Thank you for all the kind words.  I hope you will enjoy each chapter this much

To Merrie and others, I hope I have corrected the 'smooshed' problem.  If you have an idea to make it even better, then please let me know.

To Robyn, this story won't be over until the fat lady sings, and there is no Anna Nichol here.  Please keep reading.

To those who wondered about the alcohol, keep reading, because as the intro saids, not all is as it seems when you are dealing with the Luthors.

Please keep reading and giving me feedback.  Thank you soooo much.


	3. Chapter Three

A Death In The Family Part One: Chapter Three:

   Metropolis General had many amenities that the Smallville Medical Center did not; among them was and atrium just off the main floor across from the cafeteria. It was in this glass encased sunny room surrounded by all the various plants that Clark found a seat on a stone bench and stared out towards the courtyard.  He thought of how much he hated the fact that the sun still shined so bright when his world was at one of its darkest points.

   Several people in hospital garments and suits walked pass as he sat silently. Trying to stop the fast pace of his thoughts.  His mind had been reeling from the first moment he heard about the accident, and it seemed to move faster at each revelation.  All Clark wanted was silence from hearing more bad news about Lex, and from the loud crashing sounds of his own thoughts.  He thought that this would be as good a place as any, but he could not find solace here anymore than he could in his head.  The thoughts of his mind, and the sounds of the people around him only echoed in his mind.

   He felt as if his head were about to explode until he heard the one distinct sound pierce through all the others.  The sound was his name being spoken by a close voice.

   Shaking his head from the clutter of thoughts, he looked up and saw the handsome, super jock himself, Whitney Fordman standing over him.

   Much to his surprise, Whitney had a warm comforting smile on his face, and did not seem angry for the show he had made about Lana's parents ten minutes earlier.  

   "Can I join you?" Whitney gestured to the empty space on the bench to Clark's right.

   Clark eyed him suspiciously for a second, not knowing what to make of Whitney's gentle demeanor.  "Sure," he finally decided to answer.

   Whitney sat down and remained silent for a few seconds trying to admire the man made beauty that surrounded them.

   Clark took a deep breath and began to speak.  "If you are here to beat me to a pulp for what I said to Lana, then don't bother.  I'm doing a fine job on my own."

   "Lana will be fine," Whitney looked at him.  "Like a friend once told me, she's a lot stronger than we think."

   Clark smiled slightly at his own words coming back at him.

   "She's a good person," Clark remarked.

   "So are you, Clark," Whitney added.  "You don't deserve half the stuff people dump on you all the time, but you still continue to help them."

   Clark was surprised by his statement and was struck speechless.

   "Even when some idiot ties you to a pole in a corn field, you continue to be there for him and try to show him the error of his ways without being judgmental or condescending," Whitney told him.  "I never thank you for not holding it against me, and for not having me arrested."

   "Maybe I just didn't want anyone to know that I was stupid enough to let it happen," Clark said pulling a dead leaf off the plant next to him.

   "I was the stupid one," Whitney admitted with a rye smile.

   "Thanks, for that," Clark returned.  

   "So," Whitney sighed placing his hands on the bench.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

   "I wouldn't know where to start," Clark told him looking away.  "My head is a jumble of thoughts and emotions right now."

   Whitney nodded.  "I know what that is like.  The waiting and not knowing are always the worst.  Sudden death is always hard and shocking, but at least it is over fast."

   Clark turned back to face the other teen.

   Whitney was compassionate when he looked into Clark's eyes.  "I've been there, Clark.  I was in the limbo of waiting for months.  You see, my Dad may have been my father, but he was also my best friend in many ways.  He helped to make me the man I am today.  He gave me my love of sports and cheered on my desire to be a football star."

   His eyes drifted down at his raised hands as Whitney continued.  "I have a ton of friends, Clark, but my old man was the only person I ever felt I could talk to about the problems in my life.  Unlike my jock buddies, he was always willing to listen and share his knowledge if need be.  He never forced the father stuff, but always was willing to share the friendly advice."

   "You must miss him," Clark commented.

   "Every minute of every day," Whitney returned.  "It was really hard at first when he died, but I know he's a lot better off now.  He's not suffering anymore.  The waiting is over, and the worst has happened."

   Whitney looked up at Clark again.  "It may sound sad, but in a way, I am glad the worst has happened.  Besides the fact that he's not in pain any longer, I saw what his illness was doing to my Mom and to me."

   He stood up and began to slowly pace before Clark.  "I know what you are feeling right now, Clark.  I remember waking up every morning wondering, 'is this the day that he breathes his last breath?'  Will he be at rest, or will he be in pain like he was with all those heart attacks?"

   "I'm sorry, Whitney," Clark spoke softly.

   A tear began to roll down Whitney's face as he continued.  "I know what those long hours of waiting are like.  I also know the guilt of having that small part of you, no matter how bleak, just wishing it were over.  Hoping that it would end so everyone could be at peace, one way or the other."

   "I don't want Lex to die," Clark buried his face in his hands.  "But a part of me almost wishes he were gone so I didn't have to remember him like this."

   "It's like having two hands in the great divide between here and death, Clark," Whitney added, stopping in front of his friend.  "One hand wants to pull him back here so you won't be alone without him, and the other wants to push him forward on his journey so he doesn't have to suffer anymore."

   "What do I do, Whitney?" Clark cried.

   "You can't do anything, Clark," Whitney put his hand on Clark's right shoulder.  "The decision is up to God.  God and Lex are the only two who can decide if he should fight to stay alive."

   Gently Whitney lifted Clark to his feet until they were face to face.  These two men barely could stand each other, but in this moment of despair they could find a solid, common ground.  Much to his surprise, Clark took comfort in Whitney's demeanor, and placed his own hand on Whitney's shoulder.

   Whitney held onto Clark even as several people gave puzzled looks as they walked by.  The man who was afraid to show his emotions and compassion was gone from Whitney.  He alone understood Clark's grief, and he would stand by his newly discovered friend.  Even if that meant facing him in a gentle stare while Clark forced back the tears.

   After a few minutes, Clark pulled himself away and wiped his eyes on his sleeves.  "I'm sorry," he spoke softly with a horsed voice.

   "Don't be," Whitney gave him a smile.  "This is the stuff friends are made for."

   Clark nodded his head as he wiped away the last of the few tears that had escaped.

   Whitney took Clark's arm again.  "Can I offer one more piece of sagely advice before we go back upstairs?"

   Clark gave him a questionable look.  "Sure."

   "Well," Whitney became uneasy again and placed his hands in his jean pockets.  "I guess I kinda knew my father was dying for months before he actually did, but I could never admit that to myself, or accept that there were a lot of things I needed to say before he died.  The most important thing I regret not saying was how much I loved him, and to just say the word 'goodbye.'"

   Clark stared at him.  "Are you asking me to say good bye to Lex?  To let him die?"

   "I regret not letting my father go before he died," Whitney explained with a tear in his own eye now.  "Even when they told my Mom and me that he was going and they couldn't do anymore for him.  His heart was too badly damaged from his last heart attack, and he was clinging to the last moments of life, they said we needed to say our goodbyes.  He was out cold, but my Mom said she knew he could still hear us."

   Whitney started to shake as all the emotions came flooding back.  "My Mom was able to tell him what she needed to say before he left, but I refused.  I didn't want him to think we were giving up on him, so I waited across the room while my Mother held his hand as he passed away.  He died without hearing my voice one last time.  With out my saying how much I loved him.  He died without my blessing."

   "Oh, Whitney," Clark now placed his hands on his shoulders.  The blond leaned his head forward and cried, and the two once enemies now found comfort with each other.  "Your father knew you loved him.  He also knew why you couldn't let go.  He understands."

   Whitney pulled away slightly.  "You have to tell him, Clark.  You have to let Lex know he can pass peacefully.  Lex knows you are one of the few people who would even care."

    Clark pulled away drying his eyes one last time as Whitney did the same.  The two young men looked at each other.

   "I never thought I would say this," Clark spoke.  "But I am really going to miss you when you go away.  Maybe this time a storm won't delay your trip.  You turned out to be a good friend."

   "You're not so bad yourself," Whitney smiled.  

   A moment of uneasy silence stood between them and then Clark stated,  "We need to get back to the others before they start to worry."

   The two turned to walk towards the elevators when Whitney made one last comment.  "Oh, and while I'm gone, Kent," he smiled.  "Stay away from my girlfriend."  He topped off the statement by patting Clark on the back.

   Clark returned the smile and secretly wondered if they would ever see each other again.

   The small lobby outside of the ICU was made into a makeshift pressroom with reporters, photographers and other crews from every form of news organizations packed into the confined space.  Looking out the small window from the waiting room, Jonathan, Martha, Chloe, Pete and Lana marveled at how many reporters actually had an interest in Lex's well being.  Chloe watched intensively as the other reporters began to unpack their palm pilots, note pads and laptops.  This was her future, she was sure.

   "They even got CNN here," Pete remarked with awe to the Kents who stood in the doorframe.  "Not to mention GBS, MSNBC, FOX, ABC and CBS."

   "The local papers like the Daily Planet and Inquisitor are also represented," Chloe added. "A guy from the Wall Street Journal is here, too."

   "It's a feeding frenzy," Lana commented with a worried brow.  "How could Lionel want this type of thing around his son?"

   Martha looked back at her.  "Lionel has always used his family for media purposes," she explained.  "Even when his wife Lillian died, he held a press conference from some foreign country to announce her passing."

   "Poor Lex," Lana sighed leaning against the window.  

   The conversation was hushed as they all saw Lionel Luthor enter the lobby from the ICU hall.  He was surrounded by a same small group of men who had been with him earlier in the day.  He had a somber look on his face, and Martha noticed he had changed into a darker black suite than the one he wore earlier.

   The entire room was silent as the first doctor who had spoken to Clark, made his way to the small podium set up by the hospital's staff and was now covered with microphones.  He placed a piece of folded paper down on the desk and cleared his throat.

   "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press," he read from the statement.  "My name is Doctor Philip Burns N.S., M.D. and I am the attending physician overseeing the medical conditions for Mister Alexander Luthor, son of Lionel Luthor, Corporate CEO and owner of Luthor Corps industries."

   He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and continued to read.  "At about two AM this morning, Mr. Alexander Luthor was transported here to Metropolis General from Smallville Medical Center after he sustained several serous injuries in an automobile accident in the Smallville area.  When tested, it was determined that Alexander had consumed an amount of alcohol well over the legal limit at the home of his friends, the Kent family, before getting behind the wheel of his car.  It is believe in his impaired state, that young Mr. Luthor lost control of his vehicle and swerved out of control, off the road, into a field where witnesses say he rolled over a number of times as high as seven.  Mr. Luthor was not wearing his seat belt, and was thrown around inside the car until it hit a tree in the field, thus bringing the car to a complete stop."

   He took a deep breath peeking up at the reporters over his reading glasses and then continued.  "Since his arrival, Mr. Luthor has gone through extensive surgery to control and in some cases stop the internal bleeding.  He was admitted in a comatose state and remains in that condition.  Several other test and procedures have been performed as stated in the hand out we will present after this briefing.  The most important and recent test we preformed was a neurological scan and an MRI.  It has been determined that the injuries to Alexander's head have been so severe, that he has lost all neural and physiological functions.  It has been determined by my highly trained staff, and myself, that young Mr. Luthor is what we consider 'brain dead'.  There are no longer electrical impulses or movement in any part of his cerebral functions and is being kept alive by the life support systems he was attached to last night."

   Martha gasped as the words were said, from her place in the doorway.  Jonathan pulled her close as she began to cry.

   Doctor Burns allowed a few seconds for the murmuring to die down before he continued.  "At this time, the senior Mr. Luthor would like to make a statement.  He will not take any questions, but my staff and I will be happy to accommodate any questions you may have that are not covered in the transcripts at the later medical briefing this afternoon."

    He stepped aside, and the flash bulbs began clicking at an alarming rate as Lionel took his place at the podium.  He had a solaced, but determined, look on his face.  He too cleared his throat and began.

   "It is with great trepidation that I must stand before you today and say what I must."  Lionel cleared his throat again.  "After much consideration for the welfare of my son and what is the best for him, I have made a decision that saddens me."

   "Oh, no," Lana cried softly in Pete's arms.

   "In nineteen ninety three I lost my beloved wife to a serous health crisis, and today it seems I am to do the same in concerns to my son."  Lionel adjusted his reading glasses and cleared his throat again.  He was actually having trouble with the words, much to Jonathan's surprise.

   "I," he stopped to adjust the paper on the podium.  "I have instructed Doctor Burns and his staff to discontinue life support systems on my son's behalf."

   Lana and Chloe leaned in and wrapped their arms around each other.  They both cried as Martha buried her face in Jonathan's chest.

   "I have decided to allow my son to begin his journey back into his mother's arms without holding him here any longer than necessary."  Lionel cleared his throat a final time.  "At this time I will depart to be with my son at his final moments and I will not return.  Doctor Burns and his staff will keep you informed on any further development.  I ask that you please allow myself time to grieve for the lost of my family in private.  Thank you and good day."

    A jumble of movement started around him as he turned away.  One reporter even yelled out a question.

   "Mr. Luthor, would you like to comment on the pending charges against the Kent family for negligence that lead to your son's accident?" she called out.

   This caught everyone's attention and the room became silent again as Lionel stopped in his tracks.  He turned back to the podium and looked at the young newsperson.  He thought for a moment and then spoke softly into the microphones.  "I have considered my options, and at this time have decided not to file any charges against the Kent family.  I must deal with my loss and no amount of legal actions will bring my son back.  I shall let the Kent family deal with their own involvement in my son's death and let the legal system handle this case in their own way should they see fit to do so."

    The bustle continued again as he disappeared into the ICU.

   Martha looked up at her husband.  "What just happened here, Jonathan?" she asked.  "He's not filing a lawsuit, but what does he mean by letting the legal system handle it?"

   Jonathan took a deep breath with frustration.  "We just got thrown to the wolves, Martha," he pulled her in close.  "We may have entered the lion's den."

   Whitney had actually gotten Clark to smile a few more times on the elevator ride back up to the ICU floor.  They joked about silly high school stuff, and how much Whitney would miss his simpler days.  The lobby was nearly cleared out by the time they reached the floor, with the exception of a few straggling reporters.

   One stood near the elevator doors in front of the ICU doors when they entered the hall.  They stopped to watch the live report in progress

   "Again, this Andre Hing speaking to you from the Metropolis General Hospital's Intensive Care Unit where Lionel Luthor has just completed his press conference," the women of Asian decent spoke into the camera.  "Word has just been given that young Alexander Luthor has been declared brain dead, and will be removed from life support systems momentarily.  We will have the latest breaking developments as they occur."

   Clark felt as if someone had just hit him hard in his mid section.  He barely made it back to the waiting room with Whitney's help before he doubled over.

   "Clark," Martha rushed to his side.

   "We just heard the reporter in the hall," Whitney said releasing him to her care.  "Is it true?"

   Lana wrapped her arms around Whitney.  "Oh, Whitney," she cried.  "They are going to stop life support on Lex."

   Pete was attempting to comfort Chloe in the corner when Jonathan and Martha helped Clark to a seat.  He sat silent and rocked back and forth with his arms wrapped around his waist.

   For the next few minutes, there were no sounds in the room except a few sobs and sniffles.  No one knew what to say, and no one wanted to be the first to speak.

   Clark finally looked up and caught Whitney's eye from across the room.  Whitney was holding Lana as she cried, but there was no jealousy there.  The two men had come to a silent understanding somehow.  This was not about Lana or about feuds.  This was about the lost of a close friend.

   The look Clark gave Whitney seemed to be searching for answers.  Clark wanted to move, he wanted to do something, anything, but he found himself glued to the seat by some invisible force.

   Whitney unraveled himself from around Lana and kissed her forehead.  "I have to do something, Babe," he said in a whisper.  "I'll be right back."

   He made his way over to Clark and stared down at him.

   Clark looked up from his grief.  "I can't do it, Whitney."

   Whitney looked down at Clark. Clark stood up slowly as Whitney put his hands on his shoulders.  The two men stood face to face and looked at each other with great concern.

   "You only have the next few minutes," Whitney said softly as they all watched.  "This one last chance will determine your regrets for the rest of your life."

   Clark let his head fall forward until the top of it was touching Whitney's chest.

   Whitney put his hand on the back of Clark's neck.  "Let these final few minutes be a blessing, Clark.  Not a curse."

   Clark pulled his head up and faced him again.  He wiped a hand across his face and then smiled politely.  "You keep this up, and people might think you actually like me, Whitney."

   "Not a chance, Clark."  Whitney smiled back releasing his grip on his arms.

   Clark patted his shoulder as he passed Whitney.  "I'll be back," he announced to the room softly.

   "You're not thinking about going in there?" Jonathan protested as he stood up.

   Whitney placed his hands lightly against Jonathan's chest to hold him back.  "He has to do this, Mr. Kent," he told the older man with a sad voice.

TO BE CONTINUED:

***Notes ***

Thanks to everyone who has written a review, and I am working on the formating.  Thanks for the advice.


	4. Chapter Four

A Death In The Family Part One: Chapter Four:

  The walk into the ICU unit seemed like the last mile for Clark.  Each beeping and pulsating noise took on a more urgent sense for him as he made his way over to the cubical. Lionel Luthor stood at the entrance to the room as Clark stopped at his side.  There were several doctors and nurses surrounding Lex at that point.  It was unclear what they were doing, but he could see enough to know they were starting to disconnect some of the systems he had been attached to.

   "Is he?" Clark stopped himself before the actual words.  His eyes were wide with interest, but were already starting to get puffy again.

   "No," Lionel spoke softly not taking his eyes off the hospital staff.  "They are getting him ready."

   Clark looked at him.  The older Luthor was stoic and firm in his resolve not to let his emotions show.  Perhaps there were none to show, but Clark would not let himself get involved in Lionel's feelings.  He wanted to be there for Lex.

   "Are you going to throw me out, again?" He asked with a soft voice.

   "No," Lionel returned flatly.  "I won't have my son's last moments filled with your theatrics."

   "I had to be here, Mr. Luthor," Clark told him with a bit of resolve in his own voice.  "I want to say goodbye to him."

   Lionel looked at him for the first time.  

   "Lex is my best friend," Clark said in a low voice.  "I owe it to him to say my farewells."

   Lionel turned back to the room.  "Do nothing to interfere," he told Clark with a tone that let Clark know he was not going to be lenient on this matter.

   "I won't," Clark assured him.   He then took a few steps forward and stood inside the cubical as some of the people in the room began to exit.  He watched attentively as Doctor Burns put a needle into the IV drip and released the contents.

   Burns saw the puzzled look in Clark's face and he told him.  "This is a muscle relaxer.  It will make his final moments less agonizing."

   Clark nodded his head as if he understood, but the fact that those moments would be a struggle only gave more proof to Clark's belief that Lex was not ready to die.

   Doctor Burns walked over to Clark.  "Are you sure you want to see this, son?"

   Clark took a deep breath and answered.  "I have to, Dr. Burns.  I owe it to my best friend."

   He gave Clark the once over and then looked back at Lionel who nodded his head one time with the same steel expression on his face.

   Doctor Burns took a deep breath and turned back to the last respirator that seemed to remain in the room.  He punched a code into the machine and then glanced over at Lex.  

   Then, as if trying to react before he could change his own mind, he quickly hit the small red button that made all the lights on the large apparatus go out.  The hum of the machine pumped a few more times before the hiss stop for the last time.

   The doctor turned back to Clark and Lionel.  "He may breath a few times on his own. It will be a natural reaction to having the machine do it for him for so long.  It will be a reflex reaction, but in a few minutes, his own muscles will stop pumping his blood, and he will pass."

   Doctor Burns left the room, and Clark was surprised that Lionel made no effort to enter the cubical.  Only one nurse remained on the opposite side of Lex's bed to his right, and Clark took the left side.

   "Would you like to stand here?" he questioned Lionel.

   "No," Lionel replied.  "I will be informed when it's over."  With that said, Lionel turned around and walked away, out of Clark's sight.

   Clark turned his attention to Lex.  His chest was still rising and lowering slowly.  There was still life in his body for at least the moment.

   "Is he in pain?" Clark asked the one remaining nurse who was monitoring his vital.

   "No," she said with a warm, sympathetic voice.

   A tear rolled down Clark's right cheek before he could stop it.  "Can he hear me?"

   "I believe if he doesn't hear you with his ears, then he will with his heart," she gave Clark a small smile.

   "The heart," Clark repeated.  He placed his hand on Lex's chest and he could feel the welts from the bruises under his gown.  The feeling from knowing what physical pain he must have gone through caused Clark to take a gasp of breath releasing a small groan as a chill ran up his spine.  This was all he needed, and Clark forgot that they were not alone in the room.

   "Lex," Clark leaned into his ear.  "We don't have a whole lot of time left, buddy.  So I guess I'd better get to the point." His hand gently passed over Lex's baldhead.  I came here to tell you goodbye."

   A few tears hit the pillow by Lex's ear.  "I wanted you to know that you are my best friend, and I will miss you."

   Clark's body started shaking from his sobs.  "I know you always felt alone in the world, but you were never alone Lex. I know somehow, someway, we will meet again."  A heavy sob hit him at that point and he fought off the impulse to heave with a loud groan.  "So I came here to tell you to go and be with your mother now.  You need to let go of this pain, and I need to let you go home to be with her and God."

   Clark voice could hardly make it pass his horsed throat.  He had not cried this much in a very long time.  "I love you, buddy," He said one final time.  "Be at peace, Lex."

   Lex's body gave a jerk and his arms hit the rail on the side of the bed.

   "What's happening?"  Clark asked the nurse with alarm.

   The nurse looked at her instruments.  "His body is starting to shut down, and his natural reaction is to fight it," she explained.

   Lex jumped again and this time his feet rose and slapped back onto the bed.

   "He's gong to hurt himself," Clark warned as Lex began to squirm.

   "There is nothing we can do," she told him with a stern voice.  "This doesn't always happen, but Mr. Luthor was a very young and healthy man.  It is no wonder his body would fight to survive even after his brain has stopped."

   "We have to do something before he hurts himself, more," Clark insisted.

   "What do you suggest?" she asked.  

   Clark looked down at his friend.  "I think I can do something," he said lowering the rail.

   "What are you doing?" the blond nurse asked.

   "I'm not going to let him die like this alone and in pain," Clark told her cradling Lex's upper body parts in his arms as he slid into the death bed next to him.

   "Moving him like that may kill him sooner," she warned.

   "Then he will live another two minutes instead of four," Clark snarled.  "I won't let him think he is alone in his last moments of life.  Lionel can walk away from him all he wants, but I will not leave Lex to die alone in this bed."  His teeth were gritted as he spoke with tears streaming down his face wrapping his arms around his friend to hold him still. 

   She watched as she saw how affectionate Clark was to Lex in his dying moments. Clark was not afraid of what she or anyone thought about him and Lex as he cradled his friend in his arms and rested the head against his chest.  Their friendship was beyond conventional stereotypes of how much caring one man should show another.  Their friendship was 'the stuff of legends,' as Lex once said.  Clark knew that given the chance, they would have proven that fact.

   It was a few more minutes before the convulsions stopped and Clark looked up at the nurse who was monitoring him from her stand next to the bed.  "He's still breathing." Clark whispered.

   "For now," she replied in a hushed voice.

   The tears had stopped for the moment, and Clark marveled at the peace that had taken them over.  The beeps and humming from all the machines in the other rooms had been blocked out, and all that remained were the soft shallow breaths from Lex that were coming fewer and with longer pauses between them.

   The time between his breaths had become so long, that Clark hardly recognized that his friend had not taking a gulp of air in over thirty seconds.  Nurse Baker had taken noticed first and leaned into to listen to his heart one final time.

   Clark knew when she looked up with a sad face and slowly removed her stethoscope.  She placed her free hand over Lex's face and announced in a soft tone,  "He's gone."

   Clark surprised himself with his own reaction.  The tears stopped.  Perhaps he had cried himself out, or this could be the sense of relief Whitney mentioned, but all Clark knew was that he still felt an enormous grief, but his tears had stopped.

   Slowly he stood up still cradling Lex in his arms and slowly lowered him back to the bed.  Nurse Baker helped to put Lex back into position and then covered him with a blanket.  Clark reached for it when she approached midway to his face. He gave her a look as if to say that this was his job now, and pulled the sheet until it was up to his neck.  He leaned in one last time and kissed Lex's forehead for the final time.  He then pulled the sheet tightly over his friend's head.

   Jonathan Kent made his way over to Clark from where they were watching far off through the ICU hall doors.  He touched Clark's arm.  It was all he needed, and Clark felt the tears building up again, and he fell into his father's embrace.

   Slowly Jonathan led him back towards the door where the others were waiting.  The girls and even Whitney had tears in their eyes when Clark came out into the lobby.  They all stood around watching as Martha and Jonathan tried to comfort Clark.

   Whitney broke away from Lana and walked over to Clark.  He placed his hands on Clark's shoulders and leaned into the embrace with his parents.

   "It's not the end of the world, Clark," Whitney whispered into his ear.  "It just feels like it."

   Clark reached back and pulled Whitney into the hug.  Lana and Chloe joined the group hug and Jonathan and Martha welcomed them into the fold.

   Pete Ross watched from a few feet away.  He wanted to help console his friends, but he felt like a fraud because as sad as this day was, a small part of Pete felt like celebrating and those thoughts were making him sick to his stomach.

  Lionel stood on the opposite side of the door and watched as they all comforted each other.  He never knew what to make of such displays of emotions.

   Doctor Burns approached him.  "Could I get you anything, sir?"

   Lionel turned to him with the same unemotional look as before.  "Release the press statement, Dr. Burns, and I will tell my staff to prepare the funeral."  

   With everything said, Lionel walked back into the cubical where he had been keeping himself the last few hours.

TO BE CONTINUED:

***NOTES****

To Robyn, I am so happy you enjoying the story, I hope you will continue to read on, because this story is far from over.

To Marrie, thanks for the offer, but as you can see, you can keep the chocolates.  But keep reading.

Thanks to all of you for the nice reviews and help.  Please continue to let me know what you think.  The reviews make my day.

I also know that I ran the risk of sounding a little slashy in this chapter, but I think we can all agree that when death is involved, we tend to overcome our fears of showing effections for one another.  Clark strikes me as someone who is not afraid of what people would think.

Thank you again and PLEASE KEEP READING!!!


	5. Chapter Five

Smallville:  A Death In The Family: Part Two: Burial

Chapter Five:

   The Kent farm just out side of Smallville had seen many sad days in its years of existence.  The father of the current owner, Jonathan Kent, had weathered out the depression on these fertile grounds.  This land had seen droughts, floods and a number of storms and tornadoes even in the recent weeks.  The people who have lived here over the years have also weathered personal storms.  Yet today, for it's youngest occupant, it was the saddest day.  Today, Clark Kent was going to say goodbye to and bury his best friend.

   Clark stood before the mirror in his private domain of the barn's hayloft, which was affectionately known as his Fortress of Solitude.  He fiddled with the dark blue tie and he was wearing with his new black suit.  The moment hit him as he remembered back only a few days earlier how he had been here fumbling with a bow tie to wear with his tux at the spring formal and his friend Lex had shown up at just the right moment to help him make the piece of material work.  Clark saw the hurt in his own face as he realized that 'today' he would be burying that troubled man.

   He sighed with frustration as he finished his knot and looked away from his own reflection.

   "You look very handsome," a female voice called as she reached the top of the stairs.

   Startled, Clark turned around and saw his mother standing in an ankle length black skirt with a white blouse covered by a smart black blazer that matched the skirt.  "Then again, I might be biased."

   Clark forced a smile for Martha Kent.  "Thanks."

   She walked over and reached for the tie adjusting the knot and making sure it were centered.  "Your father is already in the car waiting for us.  We need to leave now if we are going to make the funeral in Metropolis."

   Clark looked down and inspected her work.  The tie was straight and the knot perfect, but for all the efforts, he could not have cared less.

   "We don't want to be late for the funeral," Martha informed her son.  "Lex would be proud to know you were there when they laid him to rest."

   "In Metropolis," Clark finally spoke.  "Lex wanted to stay here in Smallville.  He liked it here."

   Martha looked up into her son's strong face that now seemed like a small child's.  "Lex will be placed in the family mausoleum next to his mother Lillian.  I think it is what Lex would want; to be next to her."

   Clark looked sternly at his own reflection again.  "Lionel Luthor came here a few weeks ago and closed the plant so he could force Lex to the city, but he fought his father tooth and nail, and now that Lex cannot fight anymore, his father is still forcing him back to Metropolis."

   "Honey," she placed her hands on his arms.  "Don't think about it like that.  Lionel can do what ever he wants with Lex's body.  Lex is not in there anymore."

   Clark studied his mother's reflection next to his.  "Do you," he stopped for a second before finishing his statement.  "Do you think Lex is in Heaven?"

   Martha brow creased.  She didn't want to upset her son, but she didn't want to lie either.

   "He didn't believe the way we do," Clark added.

   "I don't think actual religion has much to do with it," Martha said.  "We don't really know what Lex believed in his head, or if he was following the doctrines in private."  She took a deep breath.  "I know what I believe and know, and I have to follow what I think is the truth, but I would never attempt to judge weather or not another person is going to Heaven or not.  It's not my place to decide nor do I think it's my place to voice an opinion."

   Clark put his right hand over hers.  "I pray he's in Heaven, Ma."

   "So do I, Clark," she patted his other shoulder.

   A horn sounded from outside.

   Martha chuckled.  "I guess that would be your father's way of telling us to get a move on."

   Clark smiled too.  Then a serious look came across his face.  "Do you think Dad is glad that Lex is gone?"

   Martha took a step back.  "No, of course not," she gasped.  "Your father may not have like Lex as much as you did, but he would never want something like this to happen."

   A heavy pain came to Clark's heart.  "Of course not," he repeated.  "Dad would never want anyone to die."

   "Clark," Martha gently turned him around to face her again.  "You are going through a very emotional time right now, and grief can make you have all types of thoughts and ideas you never would have otherwise, but it is all part of the process.  Don't keep hitting yourself in the head thinking you are going out of your mind or something.  These thoughts and strange ideas will pass."

   Clark stared down at his mother.  She had always been a pillar of strength in his life.  She and Jonathan did not just raise him up to be a good man, but they raised him as an extension of their beliefs and moral fiber.  Clark may have been from another planet for all he knew, but the Kent's had made him human like nothing else in the universe could have.  Not knowing who his real parents were had never worried Clark, because he knew the Kents were where he belonged.

   Martha touched his hurting face.  "Are you going to be okay?"

   "Yeah," he forced a grin.

   "Good," she smiled.  "Just remember that we love you, son."

   "I know," he grinned again.  "And I love you."

   Martha turned and walked towards the steps while Clark took one last sad look at himself in the mirror.

   "Ma?" he called out.

   "Yes, Clark?" Martha looked back from the steps.

   Clark looked away from the mirror over to her.  "Do you think Lionel ever told Lex that he loved him?"

   Martha had to think for a minute.  She wanted to assure Clark that his father had loved his best friend while he was still alive, but she could not bring herself to really examine the thought.  Lex had suffered in his own way, and now the pain was over.  It was best not to dwell on it.

   "Let's not try and dissect the Luthor family, Clark," she told him with a strained smile.  "Let us just linger on what Lex meant to us."

   Clark had been silent for the entire ride up to Metropolis.  He sat in the back seat of the Kent's car and stared at the passing landscape around them.  He simply watched and thought back of his time with Lex.

   When they arrived at the large church, they were directed to the front door where valets had been stationed to park the cars of the arriving mourners in the proper rows of how they would follow the body to the cemetery.  The Kent's got out and Jonathan handed the keys to the young man waiting.

   Just as they were about to walk up the steps they heard a horn blow just behind them.

   "Chloe, Lana and Pete," Martha announced as Chloe slid her small red vehicle behind the Kent's car.  They waved with smiles and the Kent's politely waved back.  

  They each disembarked from the car and Chloe approached the valet.  "I know every scratch that's already on it, so be careful."  She smiled holding out the keys.

   "I beg your pardon," a stately looking elderly gentleman seemed to appear out of nowhere, but this car is most inappropriate for the procession.  Would you please park it across the street in the public lot."

   "Wait a minute," Chloe frowned.  "This is the only ride I have.  How are we going to get to the cemetery?"

   "It's alright," Martha stepped in.  "You Pete and Lana can ride with us, it will be a snug ride, but we'll make it work."

   She took the keys from Chloe's hands and gave them to the elderly man.  "And I am sure these nice people would be happy to park the car across the road for you and then bring your keys back inside to you."  She gave the gentleman a polite smile that also told him that this was not up for debate.

   "Of course," he took the keys.  "I shall have them returned momentarily."

   "Personally," Martha added.

   "Of course," he forced a bitter grin.

   Lana approached Clark who stood off to the side waiting.  She gave him a sweet smile.  "How are you doing, Clark?"

   "I'm fine, Lana," he returned politely with a lost look on his face.

   "Whitney was sorry he couldn't be here, but he couldn't put off his recruiter any longer," she explained.  "The storms bought him an extra week of time already.  He couldn't ask for anymore."

   "I understand," Clark lied.  He knew that Whitney had to leave, but he also knew that he was also the only other person who had a close and personal connection to the pain that Clark was in right now.  He needed Whitney, even if he could not admit it.  First Lex was gone, and now Whitney.  Who would leave Clark next; he wondered.

   "Hey Clark," Pete padded him on the shoulder.  "How are you holding up?"

   "Let's see," Clark said with a sigh.  "Lex has been dead three days, seventeen hours and thirty nine minutes and I haven't thought about anything else since.  Not bad, I guess."

   "Oh Clark," Lana leaned in and hugged him.  "Lex thought allot of you.  With the exception of the Talon, you were about the only thing we ever talked about."

   Clark hugged her back.  "Thanks, Lana."

   "Hey, I spoke with Pastor Springs, and he was real sorry you weren't going to be going to the summer camp this year.  Not even for your usual week," Pete cut back into the conversation.  "He told me to send his regards and to tell you he's praying."

   "Summer camp?" Clark questioned pulling away from Lana.  "I forgot all about it.  And with all the work around the farm, there is no way I would be able to go this year."

   "Well, I'm going to miss you," Pete smiled.

   "So you are still going?" Clark asked.

   "Yeah," he replied.  "Pastor Springs told me they were short handed for counselors with the younger kids, he asked me to sign on for the whole run as a camp councilor.  Since my political intership fell through, I didn't see a reason not to."

   "The whole run?" Clark's eyes got wide.

   Pete realized what this meant to Clark, and he hesitated before answering. "Ah, yeah, Clark.  I signed up before this all happened with Lex.  I kinda assumed between your farm and you hanging with him, you wouldn't have much time to miss me."

   "So you're leaving for camp?" Clark sorted out the facts.  "How long?"

   "Six weeks," Pete said with a worried look.  "I'm sorry, Clark.  If I had known you would be alone, I would have never signed on, but now I have to do it.  They are counting on me."

   "Oh man," Clark sighed heavily.  "This can't be happening."

   "I'm sorry, Clark," Pete said shrugging his shoulders.  "My bus leaves in the morning."

   Again Clark's eyes open wide and his jaw dropped.  "Chloe starts her internship here in the city with the Daily Planet tomorrow.  That means Lana and I will be the only ones left in Smallville."

   "Actually," Lana cut in.  "I won't have a whole lot of time either, Clark.  Since Lex was owner of the Talon and we want to prove it's worth to Lionel Luthor so he won't close it down, Nell and I will be spending just about all our time there and at various seminars that will train us how to run the business better, here in the city.  With Whitney gone, I thought the plan to tie up all my time would be a good idea."

   Clark hung his head.  "So everyone is leaving?"

   "We'll all be back in the fall," Lana said softly patting his arm.  "We all thought you would use up all your time at the farm and..." she stopped thinking better of it.

   "And hanging around with Lex," Clark finished for her. His eyes were slightly dancing not knowing were he should look and at the same time trying not to show any more hurt than he had too.

   "I'm sorry, Clark," Lana added with another pat on his arm.

   Jonathan walked up to them as Chloe and Martha had joined the group.  "I spoke with the chief attendant, and we all need to be seated before they bring in the coffin."

   "Let's go find a seat," Martha coaxed the girls and lead them off.

   Pete looked at Jonathan who was staring at an unmoving Clark.  He decided not to say anything, and followed the girls into the church.

   "Clark," Jonathan spoke softly to his son as they stood on the steps of the large church building.  "Are you going to be able to do this, son?"

   "Yeah," Clark rubbed his face.

   "Lex needs you this last time, Clark," Jonathan told him.  "He would be proud to know that you were here for him, son."

   Clark put his hand on his father's shoulder and leaned into it.  "I think he would have been prouder if I were there when he needed me at the accident, Dad.  I should have been there to save my friend like I always have been."

   "You can't be everything to everyone," Jonathan hugged his son.  "You're not a comic book superhero.  People don't always get saved in the real world."

   The next two hours dragged by for Clark as he watched motionlessly as the casket containing his friend's remains were wheeled into the church and placed before the several hundred mourners to be prayed over in their grief.  The box was kept closed at Lionel's request.  He would not let a Luthor be seen in such a battered state.  Clark had thought of using his x-ray vision to pear through the metal box, but decided not to.  He could not get the picture of Lex's beaten and battered body out of his mind, and he did not want to add the sight of him in is coffin to those images.

   Sitting near the back of the church, Clark could not help but notice that grief was not the emotion of the day, but rather a curiosity factored in by the mourners waiting to see what a Luthor funeral would be like, and who would be there.  The whole circus that the event had become only turned Clark off even more so.  He allowed his thoughts and body's reactions to slip into autopilot and he drifted off into his own mind.  He only allowed himself to take notice of his surroundings only a few times the whole afternoon.  Once he was following his parents back to the car, then he was seated between them in front seat with Pete and the girls in the back.  There was the walk from the car to the grave sight, and finally he was standing at the side of the coffin when most of the people had seemed to have already left.  It was then Clark realized he stood with his hand on the cool steel box with the large white carnations on the lid.

   He stood silent as a stray tear rolled down his left cheek.  He wanted to say something, but his throat was too tight from the built up hurt, that even if he did speak, it would have been a broken harsh raspy sound.

   Clark stood by the box for several minutes as the mourners left behind mingled among themselves.  Some even took pictures that he was sure would show up in the weekly tabloids eventually.  None of this mattered as Clark stood silent vigil over his friend.

   The days drifted off into the summer heat, and Clark busied himself with a number of chores around the Kent farm.  He would make it a point to wake up early in the morning, and keep his day filled with the farming needs for the entire day.  Even Jonathan marveled at how hard his son worked.  He knew that the tasks done by his super human son would have taken close to six months to get done by a normal teenager, but Clark was far from a normal teenager.

   Each night Clark would drag his weary body up to his private spot over the barn in the hayloft and collapse on his warn and beaten sofa just lying, as a gentle summer breeze would wash through the large opened door.  He would sit here after hours of purposefully demanding work hoping that he would drift off to sleep quickly and not have time to think.  He no longer had the desire to sleep in his small dark room in the Kent's house.  Clark was alone and he tried hard to keep himself from craving anyone else's company, to the point of even avoiding his parents when ever possible.  Solitude was his only friend in the three weeks since Lex's funeral, and for now, that was enough.

   The elder Kent's had gone out for the evening, and Clark stayed behind to be with himself.  He lay silent for several long minutes attempting to control his breathing so he would drift off more easily, but tonight was one of those nights that the thoughts kept coming in spite of his best efforts.  His mind wondered back to better days, which were filled mostly by his memories of Lex. 

   He thought about the first time they met when the Lex's car drove off the bridge and how he saved the bald young man.  Then there was the time they were trapped with Earl Jenkins on Level three and had to fight to stay alive.  There were the quiet times when they would sit in the study at the Luthor Mansion and just talk.  The Christmas eve when they almost died driving back from Metropolis.  Then fights and mistrust that lingered between them, that seemed to keep them at arm's length for much of the time.  A smile came to Clark's face as he remembered all the laughs the two shared over warm drinks at the Beanery and Talon, and the small tug of war they had with each other's intellect.  "Our friendship will be the stuff of legends." Lex once said to him, and now with him gone, Clark knew that the story would be incomplete.  All these thoughts were enveloping Clark as the final picture of Lex dying in his arms came to his mind.  Clark shot up as the pain of reliving that moment rushed through him.

   Clark's breathing was heavy and mournful as he buried his face into his hands.

   "You have got to stop doing this to yourself, Clark," a familiar voice sounded in the dark.

   "What?" Clark jumped up and searched the empty loft.

   "You have to stop eating yourself up inside," the voice added.

   "Who said that?  Who's there?" Clark asked.

   As Clark turned to the dim moonlight shining in through the loft's door, he could make out a hazy figure coming into view.

   "I'm worried about you Clark," the man said.  "You are taking this much harder than you should be."

   "Oh my God," Clark gasped as the man stepped into the light.  "Lex?"

   "Still sulking in your own grief," Lex smiled.  He was robust and healthy again, and all the signs from his ordeal were gone.  He stood in his smart dark Docker pants and purple turtle neck silk shirt under a navy blue sport coat that matched the slacks and socks with the polished black shoes.

   "You're alive," Clark announced wearing his own dirty blue jeans and matted stained t-shirt.  "You're alive?"

   "Not really," Lex said in a low-keyed voice.  "I'm not really here, Clark.  I am just a projection of what you want to see in your own mind."

   "Another alien ability?" Clark questioned.

   "No, this one is strictly human, Clark," Lex told him as he approached.  "You needed to see me again, and your mind built this image to help ease the strain.  I'm here because you want me here."

   "So the real Lex is still dead," Clark reason with a defeated tone.  He sat back on the sofa.

   "I came to tell you the things that you already know subconsciously and do not want to except," The image told Clark sitting next to him to his right.

   "Why would I want to hear what I am keeping suppressed?" Clark sighed.

   "You need to remind yourself that this was not your fault, Clark," Lex told him.  "You know that there was nothing you could do to prevent this.  You were no where near the car when it drove off the road."

   "Then why do I still feel like there was something I could have done?" Clark fell back into a slump on the sofa.  "Why wasn't I there to save you?"

   "You were busy living your life while I was living mine.  You were never my guardian angel. Clark.  You were my friend who just always happen to be there when I needed you."

   Clark turned to meet his gaze.  "Like you are now."

   "What are you afraid of, Clark?" Lex asked.

   "Nothing," his voiced trailed off for a second.  "And everything."

   "My memory will always be with you," Lex assured with a slight grin.

   Hurt darted through Clark's eyes as he lean forward again.  "I'm not so sure," his voice let out in a tone just above a whisper.

   Clark stood up from the sofa and walked over to the open loft.  "Do you smile with your teeth showing, or do you hide them when you grin?" Clark asked out into the wind.

   "I don't understand the question," Lex who was now directly behind him responded.  "You've seen me a hundred times.  You would know about my smile more than I would."

   "That's just it," Clark turned quickly to face him again.  He took a moment and looked his friend over from head to foot.  "This," his voice faulted.  "This is the clearest picture I have had of you in my mind for days now.  Your face is drifting into the general picture my mind's eye has of just about anyone I've ever seen."

   Clark raised his hand as if to touch his friend but stopped short.  "I'm losing my memories of you Lex.  The details are starting to blur."

   "It's all becoming like a slightly blurred snap shot," Lex added.  "These things happen, Clark.  It's part of the grieving process.  Your mind is rounding out the edges of your memories so the corners are not so sharp anymore, and they won't hurt as much when you look at them again."

   "But I don't want to forget, Lex," Clark retorted with a harsh tone.  "I don't ever want to forget who you were, and how much we meant to each other."

   "You won't ever forget, Clark," Lex's image smiled.  "Even if you were not special, the mind doesn't forget important things, it just makes them easier to handle.  In your case, you can remember more than most.  Your mind, like your body, is getting stronger as you get older."

   "So I won't forget," Clark breathed a sigh of relief.  He smiled again and looked out at the moon over the pasture fields.  "It still doesn't stop me from missing you."

   "I know," Lex agreed.

   Clark took a deep breath and leaned into the frame of the loft's door.  "I can't stand the thought of not remembering another important person in my life."

   "Like the way you can not remember your real parents?" Lex rounded out the thought as he stood against the opposite side of the frame.

   "Yeah," Clark confirmed.

   "They must have loved you, Clark," Lex said.  

   "They sent me away," Clark stated.

   "In a rocket ship to another planet," Lex reminded him.  "If you want to loose a child, you drop them on a front stoop, you don't spend the time or expense on space travel."

   Clark took another deep breath as he pondered what his friend was saying.  "Nothing I am saying is new, Clark," Lex told him.  "I am relating the very thoughts you are having in your own head, only it seems to be more logical with another person's voice behind it."

   "I trust you so much, but you and I had so many secrets from each other," Clark recalled staring out at the night sky.  "We had so many lies between us, yet I always felt like I trusted you more than anyone else."

   "We were a lot alike," Lex grinned.  "As different as we were, we were both outsiders in this world called Smallville.  You were from another planet and I might as well have been for all the reactions I got from the locals."

   "No one felt they could trust you," Clark reminded him, as he stood straight again.

   "And with good reasons," Lex added.

   "What am I going to do without you, Lex?" Clark's eyes grew with sorrow again.  "You are my best friend."

   "Some people thought we were too close, Clark."

   "I never cared what people thought," Clark sneered.  "I've heard some of things people in this town have said about us, but they don't understand how two lost outsiders can be brought together and become so close without something being sick or twisted between them."

   "They all thought I was using you somehow," Lex said following Clark back to the sofa.  "You were my friend, Clark.  I would have never hurt you."

   "I know, Lex."  Clark turned back towards him.  "Now the whole world thinks I did something careless to let you hurt yourself.  They think I would have let you drive away drunk."

   "Like I would have had a chance," Lex laughed.  "You would have picked my car up over your head and smashed in into a rock if it were the only way to stop me."

   Clark was laughing along with Lex as they stood left shoulders to shoulders face opposite directions.  He stopped and turned his head towards his friend.  "What happens now, Lex?  If this is all in my head, then where do I go from here?"

   Lex looked down at his feet.  "We say goodbye, and I return to your mind to take my place in those foggy pictures."

   Clark rubbed his face.  "I already said goodbye once, Lex.  I don't know if I can say it again."

   "You don't have to," Lex turned to face him.  "I came here so you could see me one last time, and to let you know that what ever happens, you will be okay.  I came to tell you that what happened to me, was not your fault.  I came so you could hear me say goodbye to you."

   "Can't you stay a while longer?" Clark pleaded.

   "No rubber room could ever hold you, Clark," Lex smiled.  "And if I stayed any longer, then that is where they would have to put you.  I am all in your head, and I need let you return to your own life."

   "This is my own head trying to convince me that I am not at fault."

   "No, Clark," Lex's eyes grew slightly angry.  "I may be of your making, but I have not said anything that you know the real Lex wouldn't have said.  He wants you to forgive yourself and to move on with your life."

   Clark didn't need another image to tell him this one was telling him the truth.  "I'll miss you."

   Lex took a step forward until he was inches from Clark's face.  "Goodbye, Clark."  He took another step and disappeared into Clark's head.

   "Lex, come back!" Clark screamed himself awake from where he had fallen asleep on the sofa in the loft.  His body was covered in a cold sweet and his clothes were drenched.  He quickly scanned the room to find that he was alone.  The cool, summer breeze was steadily coming in from the open loft door and seemed all the colder in his wet t-shirt.  

   Clark took a few more deep breaths as if to assure him self that he was awake and buried his face in his hands.  "It was just a dream," he moaned.  "Lex is still dead."

   The wind outside his fortress of solitude was beginning to pick up and thought he could hear something in the whisper of the rushed air.  He walked over to the opened door and listened.  After a few more seconds, he heard it again.

   "The phone," he exhaled.  

   With a flash of colors, Clark made a quick sprint to the farmhouse and stepped inside to answer the phone.

   "Kent farm," he called into the receiver.

   "Clark, thank God I finally got through to you," the familiar voice said to him.

   "Who," Clark stuttered at the sound of the man's voice.  "Who is this?"

   "Clark, has it been that long?" the voice replied.  "It's me, Lex.  Listen I don't have much time, they're coming for me."  

   The voice of his friend was becoming hastened.  "I think I'm in real trouble here, Clark.  I need your help."

   "Is this some sick joke?" Clark clenched his jaw.

   "No, don't do that," the voice spoke to someone else on the other end.  Then the phone clicked and the dial tone returned.  The voice was gone.

   Clark held the receiver before his face.  "This can't be happening," he moaned.  He let his body slump to the floor still holding the phone.

   "Lex is dead," he cried.  "I saw him die myself.  Who would do this to me?  Lex is dead."

   Clark pulled his knees close up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  He gently began to rock himself backwards and forwards.  He kept repeating the same sentence:  "Lex is dead."

To Be Continued...


	6. Chapter Six

A Death in the Family Part Two: Chapter Six:

   The Dodge pickup truck rolled into the Kent's driveway at about nine-thirty when Jonathan Kent, the elder blond male head of the small family, stepped out from the driver's side and his wife Martha, with her long, red, highlighted hair with streaks of gray, stepped out from the passenger side.  The two were continuing their conversation that they had started while driving.

   "Well, didn't Carl give you any indications as to what they would do next?"  The healthy and lovely woman asked her husband as they walked to the back of the truck.

   "I told you, Martha," he sighed heavily reaching for the tailgate.  "Carl said that Jim sent the file up to Metropolis for some investigators to look over."

   He pulled the door down and revealed a large selection of white plastic grocery bags under a blue tarp.  "It seems that the sheriff is not clear on how he wants to pursue our case.  Proven liability in a drunk driving accident concerning an adult is a tricky situation, and the locals want to make sure that they have a hard case before they make any arrests or file charges."

   "It just doesn't make any sense," she said, reaching to pick up some bags.  "Forget that we did not even have any alcohol in the house at the time, but Lex has been buried for weeks now and Lionel has decided not to press any charges himself; why would the police even continue with this case?"

   Jonathan shook his head, picking up a few handfuls of bags himself.  "Lex Luthor was very high profile for a small town like Smallville.  This case is being watched by the entire country, and I am sure the local crime enforcers do not want to make it look like they are turning a blind eye to one of it's own 'good old boys.'"

   Martha gave her husband a rye smile.  "I have known you for almost twenty years Jonathan Kent, and you have never been what I would perceive as a 'good old boy.'"

   "Thanks," Jonathan cocked and eyebrow.  "I think."

   Martha playfully nudged her husband with her elbow and then led the trail to the front door with the provisions in hand.  

   It was not until they had stepped into the glow of the porch light that they saw Clark sitting on the top step.  His head was hung low and he seemed to be lost in deep, sorrow- filled thoughts.

   "Clark?"  Martha called his name.  "Are you alright?"

   Clark hardly lifted his head to see his approaching parents.

   "What is it, son?"  Jonathan asked as they stopped before him.

   He raised his face towards the light, and it was clear that he had been crying earlier.

   Martha placed her bags on the steps and took a seat next to her son to his left.  "What happened, Clark?  What has made you so upset?"

   Clark had great remorse in his eyes when he looked at her.  "You will think I am crazy if I tell you."

   "Son," Jonathan placed his bags down and sat at his right.  "You may be a lot of things, including something out of a Gene Rodenberry television show," he attempted a little humor.  "But we have never thought you were crazy."

   Clark turned his head and faced his father with a determine silence.

   "Please, Clark, let us help you," his mother rested her right hand on his shoulder.

   Clark lowered his head and stared at the object in his hands.

   "Lex," he let the word slip pass his lips.

   "What about Lex?"  Jonathan coaxed.

   Clark looked up at his father again and held the cordless phone up into the light.  "Lex called me a few minutes ago."

   "Oh, my God," Martha gasped.  "Honey, Lex is gone.  We all saw him die and get buried."

   "Don't you think I know that?"  Clark gave her a hurt look.  "He died in my arms, Ma.  I felt the life drift out of my best friends body."

   "Then how could he be calling you from the grave?"  Jonathan questioned.

   "I don't know, but it was his voice, Dad," Clark insisted.  "He said he was happy to get through to me, and that he needed my help."  Clark's head lowered again.  "Then he was cut off."

   "It had to be someone playing a sick joke," Jonathan insisted.

  "Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Clark?"  Martha asked.  "I know you were asleep on your sofa up in the loft when I went to ask you if you wanted to come shopping with us."

   Clark turned to her with a startled look.

   "What is it, Clark?"  Jonathan asked.

   "I had a dream about Lex when I was sleeping up there," Clark admitted.

   Jonathan shot his wife a knowing look.

   Clark twisted in his seated position as if he wanted to get up and run away, but instead, he stayed still and continued.  "I've been feeling really bad about him dying and how he died.  I guess I was ripping myself up inside because I wasn't able to save him."

   He took a deep breath and nervously toyed with the phone antenna.  "So I dreamed that he was up in the loft with me, and we talked some stuff over.  He made me see that it wasn't my fault, and that I couldn't be with him every hour of every day to protect him.  He said he came because I needed him and wanted to see him."

   "Then what happened?"  Jonathan tried to lead him on.

   "Then I saw him return to my sub-consciences and I woke up yelling his name," Clark finished his story.

   "Was that when you heard the phone?"  Jonathan inquired.

   Clark looked at his father's face as if seeking the answer.  "Yeah, I think so.  I ran down when I heard the ringing and when I picked it up, it was Lex's voice."

   "Oh, Clark," Martha ran her hand through his hair.  "That's what happened.  You were still half asleep when you ran down her for the phone, and you thought you heard Lex's voice."

   "But I did hear Lex, Ma," Clark defended himself.

   "You heard him because you wanted and needed to, Clark," Jonathan explained.  "Just like the dream in the loft."

   "No," Clark's voice almost cried.  "I know that the dream was a dream, but the voice I heard was real.  Lex called me on this phone."  He held it up.

   Martha took the phone from his hand and pressed the caller identification button.  "There was a call made to us a short while ago," she said.  "But it says 'Not available'."

   A glimmer of hope came to Clark's eyes.  "You see."

   "I'm sorry, son," Jonathan took the phone.  "This proves that the phone did ring, but 'Unavailable is far from a confirmation of Lex being back from the grave."

   Clark stood up and took a few steps forward off the porch.  "Then you do think I am crazy."

   Martha slid over closer to Jonathan.  "Is there any call back number?"

   "No," he replied.  "But I think we might be able to star sixty nine it."

   Clark turned back towards his parents with a start.  "That's it."

   Jonathan gave his son a cautious glance and dialed the numbers.  He placed the phone to his ear and listened.

   A look of annoyance came to his face after a few seconds, and then he spoke.  "Hello, yes.  My name is Jonathan Kent, and I was wondering if you made a phone call to this number earlier tonight."

   Martha and Clark watched attentively as he nodded his head a few times.  He then spoke again.  "No, thank you for the offer, but my wife and I are very happy with our current long distance provider.  Thank you."

   He removed the phone from his ear and pushed the button.

   "It was Lex, Dad."  Clark spoke in a pleading voice.  "I swear to God that Lex called me for my help tonight."

   Jonathan didn't know what to say to the teenager.  A small part of him had hoped that Clark was right.  Even with their differences and how often he had hoped to have Lex out of Clark's life, he would have never wished any ill health on the young man.

   Jonathan stood up and placed his hands on his son's shoulders.  "I believe that you believe that you heard Lex's voice tonight, Clark.  However, it was either a remnant from your earlier dream, or somehow, someone has played a really cruel hoax on you."

   Clark's lips began to quiver.  "He's alive, Pa," he let out in a moan.  "I want him to be alive."

   Martha watched as Jonathan pulled his grown son into an embrace.  She cried along with them and then rose to join the hug.

   Jonathan pulled himself together enough and placed his hand on the back of Clark's head.  "I know what you are feeling, son," he cried into his ear.  "When my father died, I would have given my own soul just to have five more minutes with him, but it could never happen.  People we care about will always be coming in and out of our lives, and some of them will die.  We have to learn to go on with out them."

   Clark pulled them in almost to the point of where it hurt.  "I don't want to go on, Pa."

   Martha and Jonathan had gone into the house after Clark assured them he would be all right, and needed to walk off the night's events to clear his head.  He walked along the long country roads into town.  He did a super speed run bye when he approached the area that still held some of the broken glass from the crash that had claimed Lex's life.  The rain had long since washed away the streaks of fuel and grease left behind.  Even with the bushes and surrounding trees returning to their normal state.  Clark could not bear to come to this spot any longer.

   After the quick sprint pass the sight, he slowed to a normal walking speed, and within the half-hour, he found himself standing at the gates to the Luthor mansion.  The large castle like building looked cold and deserted now that its prime occupant was gone and most of the servants had either left or returned to the Metropolis home of Lionel Luthor.  He watched as the gentle summer breeze tussled the leaves of the trees on the property.  Lex had never come to appreciate the true beauty of the land surrounding the Scottish building.

   Lex had not come to appreciate a lot of things about life, and now he would never have the time to learn.  Clark had tried his best to open his friend's eyes to the simpler things in life while Lex had attempted to lure Clark to the decadence of the finery of wealth.

   Clark ran his hand down the cool steel bars to the close gate.  How many times had he slid his slender body through these barriers to visit Lex?  Now he no longer had anyone within the fortress with which he could enjoy a quiet summer conversation.

   "Why can't I let go, Lex?"  The words slipped softly from his lips.  "Why can't I accept that you are dead and leave it at that?"

   Clark leaned in, resting his forehead on one of the bars.  "You were my best friend Lex, and we never even had time to enjoy that."

   A soft sigh was released from his defeated tone.  "You were more than a friend, Lex."  He raised his head and looked at the castle.  "You were the brother I never had."

   Clark barely formed another thought before he heard a voice from within the compound a few feet to his left.  "He thought very highly of you also, young master Kent."

   The sound of another voice startled Clark and he jumped slightly squinting his eyes to see into the darkness.

   "I am sorry, sir," the owner of the voice stepped into the light.  "I was not eaves- dropping.  I was merely making my rounds of the grounds before I retired for the night."

   "Reginald," Clark recognized the fateful manservant.  "I didn't hear you coming."

   "Again, my apologies," the middle aged man with the balding, dark hair spoke.

   "It's all right."  Clark assured the older man who stood about a full foot shorter than he.  "I guess I'm just a little easy to startle these days."

   "These have been very unnerving times, sir," Reginald agreed.  "You look distraught this evening.  Could I be of some service to you?"

   Clark hung his head low.  "I don't think so.  I was just missing Lex, and I thought a walk would clear my head."

   "And your walk brought you here?"

   Clark looked up at him with a questionable smirk.  "Old habit."

   Reginald was silent for a moment and then broke in.  "I could not help over hearing what you were saying, sir, and I believe if you were the one who had passed, then young master Luthor would have been at a great lost as you are."

   A slight curl came to the edge of Clark's lips as he thought that Lex would have missed him too.  "Really?"

   Reginald could not help but smile himself.  "I had known the young sir since shortly after his unfortunate accident that took his hair, and I do not recall him ever referring to anyone as 'friend,' before you."

   A melancholy peace came over Clark as he shifted his weight listing to the butler.

   "If I were to be honest," Reginald continued.  "I have never known the master to ever desire a friend before he met you.  He thought you a very exceptional young man."

   This time Clark let his smile grow at the pleasant news.  "Yeah," he added.  "I thought he was pretty special in that dark, mysteriously secretive way of his."

   Clark's face grew solemn again as if in deep thought.

   "Are you sure I could not help you with something?"  Reginald asked again.

   "Well," Clark hesitated.

   "Please, sir," the butler said with a mournful tone.  "Master Lex would not want you sulking over him.  He would also want me to help if at all possible."

   Clark shifted himself again.  He knew what he wanted, but he was not sure that it was a good idea.  Then he took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind.

   "Could I," his words stumbled in his apprehension.  "Could I come in and take one last look around?"

   Reginald smiled again.  "Of course."  He reached to unlock the gate when Clark stopped him.

   "Wait," Clark called out.  "Let's do this the right way."  He turned sideways and slid his slim form through the widely space bars.

   Reginald could not help but chuckle at the sight.

   Clark's face turned slightly red from the embarrassment of the moment.  He shrugged his shoulders.  "For old time's sake."

   Reginald who was the only remaining staff member at the mansion allowed Clark the time to himself to roam the building until he found him in the study looking over the war table he has just uncovered from the large drop cloths and sheets that covered everything in the room.

   The war table was a large size reproduction of the war of Troy, which Lionel had presented to Lex at a very young age as a tool to plot strategies and hone his leadership abilities.  Clark had stopped here several times to enjoy the toys on his visit to his friend, and even had given Lex a gift centered on this object of his former grief toward his father, but as he looked over the setting, he could see something was missing.

   Reginald could see something was bothering the young man and he approached.

   "Is there a problem, sir?"

   Clark jerked as if waking from a slight trance.  "I'm not sure..."

   "Perhaps I may be of some assistance," Reginald told him with a concern look.

   "Well," Clark started sorting out his thoughts in his head.  "I came in here to see if the gift I gave Lex for Christmas was still here, and I was going to ask if I could take it as a remembrance, but it's gone."

   "Gone?" the butler repeated.

   "Yeah," Clark turned to him to explain.  "You might remember that the original Trojan Horse with this set was destroyed last Thanksgiving, and I made him a new one for Christmas.  I know Lex liked it even though it was not nearly as good as the last one.  He had it on this table ever since."

   Reginald gave him a puzzled look.  "Perhaps it was packed away."

   "Why the horse and not the rest of the setting?"  Clark took another look at the table to find that nothing else was missing.

   "There is one other possibility," the older man was hesitant to speak.

   Clark gave him a wide-eyed face as if to ask him to continue.

   "The elder Mr. Luthor was here about a week ago and sorted through several of his son's personal effects," he told Clark.  "I am afraid that he destroyed several of the items he thought were of no further use by burning them in the fireplace."

   Clark heart sank yet again.  He walked over to the fireplace and looked into the pile of ashes that had not been cleaned out from the harp.  He kneeled down before the unlit logs and ran his hand through the cool, dry ashes.

   Reginald walked up behind him.  "Those would be the very same ashes, sir.  I have not been able to bring myself to enter this room to clean them away since the young master's death.  This was one of his favorite rooms, and he enjoyed that you would always come in here when you were required to wait for him."

   Clark remained silent, running his fingers in the pile of soot.

   "I watched several times as he waited outside the door a few minutes extra just to allow you more time with the play set, sir."  The butler told him.  "Alexander enjoyed watching you muse with his belongings.  He would never admit how much he missed his young brother who did not survive infancy, but I believe he saw the chance missed with the child in you."

   Clark picked up a handful of the ashes and let them slip through his fingers.  "And he has gone to join his little brother and I am the one who is alone, again," he took a long pained breath.  "Everything is gone now."

   Lana was cleaning away the last of the dirty cups left on the counter at the Talon when she heard a soft knocking on the glass door.  The coffeehouse was closed over an hour ago, and she was the soul remaining occupant.  She approached the door slowly and peered pass the drawn window blinds.

   "Clark?"  She said out loud.

   When she opened the locked door, a very sad looking, tall, handsome, young man stood there with his hands in his jean pockets.

   "Hi Lana," he spoke sheepishly.  "I was just out for a walk, and I saw the lights still on."

   "Well, come in," she pulled on his arm.  "You live far enough from town for this to be more than an average walk.  Since when is Clark Kent into marathon sprints?"

   "I know," he replied allowing himself to be lead in.  "I had a lot on my mind, and I guess I just lost track of time and when I realized where I was, I was here in town."

   "I guess that can happen," she eyed him suspiciously.  "I was just about to lock up, but if you want to wait a few minutes, I can give you a ride home."

   "Thanks," Clark said, spinning around to see her walking back to the counter.  She was wearing a pink halter-top and fashionably ripped jeans with white sneakers and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, but Clark thought she had never been more beautiful.

   "So," she called from behind the counter placing the dishes into a basin.  "You haven't been around here in a while.  How are you doing, Clark?"

   He tried to shake his head from its foggy state and smiled at her.  "Okay, I guess.  I've been trying to kill the days with farm work."

   "I know what you mean," she smiled back.  "I'm burying myself in a ton of projects, it helps to keep my mind off my troubles when I'm upset about something."

   Clark sat on a stool at the counter.  "So, have you heard from Whitney?"  Clark hit his own head mentally as the words escaped his lips.  What was he thinking?

   Lana gave him an odd glance.  "Yeah," she spoke hesitantly.  "I got a letter from him the other day.  He says boot camp is ten-times harder then football training, but he's making the best of it.  He's proud to be following in his dad's footsteps."

   "Mr. Fordman was a good guy," Clark was staring at his hands.  "I miss seeing him at the store when I go there."

   "We all do," Lana returned leaning on the counter.  "Clark, is everything alright?  This mood is even more sulking than normal for you."

   He looked up from his hands.

   "Clark," she placed her hands over his.  "We've been friends for a long time now.  You can tell me if you are upset about something."

   She ran her left palm along his cheek.  "You miss Lex a lot, don't you?  I know you guys had some trouble with trusting each other, but even Chloe and Pete would have to admit that he was your new best friend."

   Clark closed and eyes and allowed his thoughts to be buried in her touch.

   "Clark," her voice again woke him from his trance.

   "I'm sorry," he opened his eyes.

   "What happened, Clark?" she asked.  "This is more than the third week in the grief process.  Something has freaked you out."

   Clark pulled his hands away from her not wanting to lose his train of thought again.  "I got a phone call tonight."

   "Oh," she coaxed him on with her eyes.

   "From Lex," he spoke the words in a slight hast hoping that she would not think him crazy.

   Lana just looked into his eyes for a few seconds.

   Clark allowed his eyes to drift down to the counter.  "You think I am one crayon short of a rainbow pack too, don't you?"

   "No, of course not," she replied hesitantly.  "I'm just not sure by what you mean when you say you got a phone call.  Is this some type of metaphor, Clark?"

   Clark stood up and walked to the center of the room.  "No, Lana.  The phone rang at the house, I picked it up, and it was Lex's voice on the other end."

   Lana stood still for a moment thinking over what he just said.

   Clark took a few steps closer, but still kept his distance.  "My parents think I was having a dream because there was no record of anyone but a telemarketer calling the house."

   "A dream," she repeated out loud.

   Clark looked back at her with his puppy dog eyes and scrunched his eyebrows.  "I kinda fell asleep in the loft and dreamed that I was talking to Lex.  The phone ringing is what woke me up, I think."

   "So your folks thinks you were imagining a 'Sixth-Sense' moment while you were listening to a computerized sales pitch," Lana reasoned out.

   "I guess," he agreed with a shrug.  

   Lana walked out from behind the counter and stood next to him.  "So, what do you think it was, Clark?"

   He returned her gaze.  "I think it was Lex."

   Lana turned away deep in thought.

   "I'm not going crazy here, Lana," he insisted.

   She glanced back at him as she returned behind the counter.  "This may sound like a Pete Ross line, but what long distance provider do you think handles the 'hereafter'?"

   "I'm not Jack Nicholson here, Lana," he leaned across the divider.  "I think I really got a phone call from Lex.  I don't need to be locked up in some crazy house."

   "Come on, Clark," she raised her hands in disbelief.  "Even Sprint won't cover these roaming charges."

   Clark sat himself back down on the stool hard and his stare was at his hands on his lap.

   "I'm sorry, Clark," she gave him her best pouting face.  "I'm just trying to make a little levity here."

   "I know," he nodded his head.

    The two remained silent until, "Clark," she reached across and touched his shoulder.  "We were all there, remember?  We watched from the door at Lex died in your arms.  You said yourself that you felt the life drain from his body.  We saw the box get placed into the crypt with his body inside."

   Clark sniffed away an invisible tear.

   Lana took his chin in her hand.  "Hey," she turned his face to hers.  "I miss Lex too, but all the hoping and dreaming will not bring him back."

   "I know that, Lana," Clark gritted his teeth.  "I have been trying to convince myself of the same thing for the past few hours, but I know what I heard.  I heard Lex's voice just as sure as I am hearing my own right now."

   Lana became worried for her friend.  She placed her hands flat on the table and looked deep into his eyes.

   "What did he say?" she asked finally giving in to the chance that the call was real.

   Clark reviewed his memory.  "He said he was happy that he finally got through, and he asked for my help because he said he was in trouble.  Then he started talking to someone telling 'them' to stop whatever it was they were doing.  Then the phone just went dead."

   Lana reviewed what she had just heard.  "And there was no trace of the call?"

   "The caller ID was unknown and my Dad even star-sixty-nine it only to get some salesmen."

   "This is only seeming all the more fantastic, Clark," she gave him a questionable look.  "You have nothing to hold up your belief."

   "I know, Lana," he stood up.  "But think about it.  If someone was able to kidnap Lex and then fake his death, wiping out a phone call from a public phone system would not be so hard."

   "Kidnap?"  Lana gushed.  "Clark, Lex has been gone for over three weeks.  If there were going to be demands, they would have been made by now."

   "To Lionel Luthor," Clark cocked his head.  "Do you really think he would have made something like that public?"

   "Have you talked to him?"  She asked.

   "No, but I'm not Lionel's favorite person these days," Clark explained.  "He still holds us responsible for the accident."

   "From getting drunk on alcohol he never got at your house," Lana looked away studying her thoughts.

   "Then a bunch of booze bottles showed up in our trash," Clark continued.

   "Because of Lionel, right?"  Lana turned back.

   "Or so we thought," Clark raised a finger.

   "There was also the car," Lana added.

   Clark gave her a questioning stare.  

   "Jake, the auto mechanic who towed the car from the crash scene, said that we was given strict orders to bring the car right to the Luthor Corps motor pole in Metropolis and not to the police impound like normal," she told him.  "He was in here the other day talking about it.  He said he had never seen someone able to wave off a police investigation as easily as Lionel Luthor did."

   Clark thought again.  "I think Lionel is hiding something."

   Lana walked back to Clark's side of the counter.  "Do you think Lionel could be hiding a kidnapping?"

   Clark looked deep into her eyes.  "I think that with the Luthors, just about anything is possible."

   Lana touched his right hand that he was resting on the counter.  "You're going to Metropolis, aren't you?"

   A serous look came across his face again.  "Dead or alive, Lana.  I owe it to Lex to get to the bottom of this."

   Lana turned and walked a few feet.  "What if it's true, Clark?"  She turned back.  "What if Lex really is still alive?"

   A dark shadow came across Clark's face.  "Then, if he is still on the Earth, I will find him."  His teeth were clenched as he spoke.  Then and there, he made a vow to himself, to Lex, and God to solve this puzzle.  The mystery surrounding Lex's death would be discovered, regardless of what the outcome would be.

TO BE CONTINUED...

***Notes***

I want to thank all of you who are following my little story and keep writing the good reviews.  I can't tell you how happy it makes me feel to know that my work is being enjoyed, so please keep them coming, and I promise that the mystery of Lex's death is far from over and we have not seen the last surprise or plot twist.  I am enjoying this story as I write it, and it has taken on a life of its own, so I too learn about some of the mystery as I go along.

To Marrie: Like I said, the plot twist and surprises are far from over.  Thanks

To MitchPell: Interesting take on the death seen, and might I add, you have a good eye for details.  As for the question of if you were right or not?  Well you might just want to keep reading.

To Robyn: Thank you for your kind comments.  It's not often I get called a demon in a nice way.  As for the fat lady, a casting call has not been put out for the roll yet, so stick around and enjoy.  I know I'm enjoying that you are enjoying.

To Anna: If you think it was hard to read Lex's death, then please know how hard it was to write.  I had to put the first few chapters away a few times during the process, because it was often too difficult to write and allot was based on some of my own memories, so it was a trial.  But I hope I have done that part of the story justice.  As for the 'hurry up and write a some more', my poor Bata Chritan is working her little heart out to keep up, so please bare with us, and maybe soon I will be able to post more than once a week until this baby is done.

Thank you all again for reading, and please keep writing.  I love the input and it only fuels the fire.  I hope that you enjoy my stories as much as I like writing them.

Phaze


	7. Chapter Seven

A Death In The Family Part Two: Chapter Seven:

   It was early the next morning when Jonathan was working on the tractor preparing it for yet another day of hard farm labor.  He was preoccupied when Martha informed him that she would go up to the loft to wake Clark since he had not come into the house last night like he had not been sleeping in his own bed since Lex's death.

   She made her way slowly up to the loft to find that the Sofa had not been touched when Clark first left it after the phone awoken him the night before.

   "Jonathan," she called out the open door to her husband.

   It was a few seconds before He made his way up the steps to stand at his wife's side.  "What is it, Martha?"

   "Clark," she turned to him.  "I don't think he slept here last night.  I thought I heard him in his room in the middle of the night, but I checked earlier, and he wasn't there either.  Now he's not here."

   Jonathan scanned the room.  "Maybe he got an early start out in the fields today."

   "With out telling us?" Martha took a few steps forward.  "Oh, no."

   "What?" Jonathan rushed to her side to see her eyes were fixated on a piece of paper on the makeshift desk across from the sofa where Clark often did his homework.

   He approached the table slowly and picked up the note left for them.

   Martha's forehead creased with worry.  "What is it Jonathan?"

   He turned back to her with a concerned look on his own face now.

   "Metropolis?" She questioned with one word.

   Jonathan picked up the note and read it to her.  "Dear Ma and Pa, I know you won't be happy when you get this letter, but I had to follow up on my suspicions and I am going to look for Lex.  I don't have much to go on right now, but I know something happen with that phone call last night, and I owe it to Lex to find out what has happen.  I think Lionel Luthor is hiding something, and he seems to be the best place to start looking for answers.  So please don't be mad.  I'll call you when I find something and I will be home as soon as I possibly can.  Sorry about the farm work, but I am figuring I helped to get us at least two weeks ahead of schedule, so you should be fine until I return.  Please don't be mad and know that I love you both and will be back soon."  Jonathan took a quick glance at his wife.  "Your son, Clark," he finished.

   Martha placed her hands over her mouth.  "Oh God, Jonathan what is he thinking?"

   "I think he thinks he can find Lex, alive," Jonathan placed the note back on the desk.

   "But he can't, can he?"  She walked over to the open door and looked out towards the deserted road.  She turned back.  "Lex Luthor is dead."

   Jonathan walked over and pulled his wife into a hug.  "I honestly don't know anymore, Martha.  Whatever Clark is looking for, his instinct has never miss lead him before."

   It was a few hours later when Clark entered the large Lobby of the Daily Planet Building.  The room was very spacious with a large Globe shaped object directly in the center with a ring around the parameter of the large sphere spelling out the name of the new paper.  Clark could not help take a moment to admire the object.  The thing had to be over ten feet in diameter and equally as tall.  The small town farm boy stood in the big city looking over a literal world.

   "Wow," his eyes lit up.

   His thoughts were interrupted by a known voice calling from the bank of elevators a few feet away.

   "Clark!"  The familiar sound called out.

   Clark broke away from his gaze and turned to see his good friend Chloe Sullivan making her way through the crowd to find him.

   "Chloe," he opened his arms and hugged the strikingly lovely blond girl.

   "I was so stoked when I got your call last night," she hugged him back.  "And of course Clark Kent shows up in the lobby at the precise moment he said he would."

   "Well, you know me," he pulled away with a large smile.  "Ever the punctual one."

   "It is so nice to see someone from back in the milk capital of the world," she patted his arm.  "I miss hanging around with you and Pete.  As much of a big city girl I might be, I still miss my small town home boys."

   "I really miss you too, Chloe," Clark told her.  "I just wished this were more of a social visit."

   "I understand, Clark," she gave him her concern look.  "If you have any questions about Lex's death, and then I would be more than honored to help you in anyway I can.  The fact that I have the entire research facilities of a large metropolitan news paper at my disposal, only make the task all the sweeter."

   "I knew if anyone could help me with this, you would be the one to call," Clark smiled again.

   "Well lucky you, Mr. Kent, because I am here at your disposal," Chloe took his arm and walked side-by-side back to the elevators.

   "There's one more thing," he stopped to allow her to stand face to face with him again.  "I didn't want to upset you on the phone, so I didn't tell you about..."

   "Lana," her words stopped him short as she looked pass him.

   "Hi, Chloe," Lana approached them.

   The smile that had been beaming on Chloe's face was lost like the many sounds in the room around them.

   Clark gave her his best humble eyes.  "Lana kinda volunteered her aunt's car for the trip, so I took her up on it."

   "Of course, Clark," Chloe forced a grin.  "I should know well enough by now that where ever Clark is, Lana couldn't be far behind."

   He wanted to say something, but chose not to. This was not the time for him to pick a fight.

   "I plugged the meter with all the change I had," Lana told them.  "I think we have a good three hours if I'm reading the stupid thing right."

   "Good," Chloe added in a much-toned down voice from her earlier giddy one.  "That should give us more than enough time to go over the information my partner and I dug up this morning.  Then we can go from there."

   Chloe turned quickly and lead through the rush of people walking in both directions.  Clark and Lana took her cue and followed.

   The elevator ride to the tenth floor was silent and unease for all three of them, but no one knew what to say, or if even a simple spoken word would start a larger threat of an argument between them.  Clark knew the moment he saw Chloe's face at the sight of Lana being with him, that he had made a mistake by bringing her.  Ever since the spring formal had gone wrong for his date with Chloe, the two women seemed to be more at odds even if it were an unspoken feud.

   Clark actually heard himself saying a silent "Thank you Jesus," when the doors to the elevator finally open.  The car open to a large bullpen styled room with rows of desk and office furniture all around with no apparent organization.  As Chloe lead then down the opened isle between the furniture, Clark noticed that just about every desk had the latest in high tech computers on them.  He followed silently while all the while his eyes were taking in the full sight of the scene around them.  With the exception of the small makeshift pressroom for the Touch at Smallville High and a few random visits to the equally small offices of the Smallville Ledger, this was the first time he had ever been in a real newspaper office.

   "My partner is here in the research office," Chloe finally spoke stopping before a glass door leading to a much smaller room off to the side of the large one.  Her speech was simple and to the point, Clark noticed, and with out her usual Chloe like comments or comparisons.

   The research office was about a ten by ten size room that seemed to be set up like a library with a door on the opposite wall leading to a much larger room which seemed to be lined with file cabinets and books of all size.  The first room had four tables with four-computer terminals facing in each direction of the surface.  There were two chairs on each side and each terminal had a small stockpile of disc, pads of paper and writing instruments.  

   Chloe lead them to the table in the far right corner where one man was busy tapping on the keyboard.  She stopped before him and cleared her throat.

   "Chloe," he looked up from his work.  He was a healthy looking man in his early thirties with a full head of chestnut brown hair and eyes to match.  He wore a striped vest over a simple button up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up one quarter of his arm's length.  He wore a pair of cheep blue dress pants that match the same thin stripes of his vest and brown Patten leather loafers with scratch marks.  Clench in his teeth was the remains of a short stogy cigar that was not lit, but instead he seemed to use as a pacifier of sorts.

   "Perry," Chloe smiled at her new partner who was showing her the ropes at her summer intern job.  "I want you to meat the friends I was telling you about."

   Perry stopped what he was doing and stood up with a half smile revealing that he was wearing white gym socks under his loafers.

   "Perry White," she then turned to Clark and Lana.  "Meat Clark Kent, my some what reluctant assistant at the torch, and our good friend Lana Lang."

   Clark could not help notice her introduction of Lana.  Perhaps things were not as bad between them as he allowed himself to believe.

   "Please to meet you kids," Perry held his hand out.

   "Same here," Clark shook his hand with a smile.  "I have read your by line a few times.  You are one of the Planet's hottest reporters."

   "Why thank you, Kent," Perry grinned.  "You got a good eye for a story."

   "You'll have to excuse me," Lana then took her turn with the handshakes.  "I am not the literary buff that Clark and Chloe are, but I am very impressed to be in the actual Daily Planet Building." 

   "She is impressive," Perry returned.  "I've been here since my first day out of journalism school, and she hasn't steered me wrong yet.  My only complaint would be solved if they revoked this stupid no smoking policy while inside."

   "Don't go there," Chloe raised her hand jokingly.  "As long as I have to work with you, you will not light that stupid little cancer stick of yours."

   "Do you see this?"  Perry turned to Clark.  "In my day, an intern respected their mentors and remained respectively silent."

   Clark laughed at his little joke.  "Well, I have to admit that we live in different times now, Mr. White."

  Chloe took the opportunity to look down at the computer screen.  "So have you uncovered anything while I was gone?"

   A serious look came to Perry's face as he returned to his seat and stared at the monitor.  "There are a few things to be questioned about this whole case," he told them.

   "Like what?" Chloe asked taking the seat to his right while Lana pulled up a chair and sat to his left while Clark leaned over the back of the seat.

   "It seems like your mechanic friend was right, Miss Lang," Perry started.  "The smashed car was transferred directly from crash sight to the Luthor Corps impound lot here in Metropolis with out ever following proper procedure to be gone over by the local law enforcement of Smallville.  The official report was also filled out by the Luthor Corps car pool mechanic and faxed to the Smallville police with out so much as a follow up to double check his findings."

   "Did they determine a cause?" Clark asked.

   "The official filed report claims there were no prior problems with the car, and the accident was most likely caused by driver's failure to maintain control of a speeding vehicle," Perry continued.  "This goes along with the doctor's confirmation that he was three sheets to the wind when he came in for treatment, and closed the book on probable caused. It was listed as driving while intoxicated."

   Clark left out a huff of frustration and pushed himself away.  "But he wasn't drunk," he insisted.  "I mean for God's sake, Lex left my house a little after eleven after several hours with no alcohol intake what so ever, and he was found less than a half hour later about a mile from house driving in the direction of his home and the nearest bar, and he was suppose to have gotten tanked in that short time."

   "Are you sure that he didn't have any bear in the car?"  Lana asked looking up.

   "Yes, I'm sure," Clark, said with a frustrated huff.  "I met him at his house to make sure he would come over to dinner, and we drove to my house together.  There was nothing in the car or the trunk because that's where I put the movie rentals for the ride."

   The three of them looked at Clark with a puzzled look.

   "I swear, guys," Clark spread his arms in a mock defense.  "There was no Alcohol, and Lex would be way too smart to drink and drive especially to this excess."

   "Lex Luthor is capable of a whole lot of things, kid," Perry warned with a worried eye.  "I met up with the guy several times on my beat.  He almost always had something to hide, and if he couldn't burry the truth, his old man's money usually took care of the rest."

   "I can't except that this is the real story," Clark told him leaning against the white wall lined with news clippings.  "There is so much about this whole thing that doesn't make sense."

   Perry stood up and walked over to Clark.  "Listen Kid," he placed a careful hand on his shoulder.  "I've had a few more years in this crazy word than you have, and I have to tell you that your friend Lex Luthors types are a dime a dozen.  They are rich spoiled brats, who believe that their Daddy's money will buy them some type of immortality, but eventually this wild life style catches up with them, and the land of the real word hits them hard.  Unfortunately for your friend, the real world came with a car spinning out of control."

   "Lex wasn't like that," Clark said with pleading eyes.  "At least not any more.  He was responsible and serious about his future.  He wouldn't do anything to risk it just to go on a binge."

   Perry took a deep breath, removed his hand and turned away.  "You know what they say about absolute power, Kent.  It seems the Luthor are pretty much the personification of that here in Kansas."

   Clark rubbed his face with both hands.

   Chloe stood up and approached him.  "Why are you bringing this up, Clark?" She asked.  "I thought you were trying to make peace with Lex's death.  Even with the pieces that don't fit."

   He stared into her eyes not sure what to answer next.

   Lana turned from the computer screen back to Clark.  "You need to tell them, Clark."

   A suspicious look took over Chloe's face when she looked at Lana.  By the time she had turned back to Clark, it was replaced by a hurt one.

   "You'll think I'm crazy," Clark tilted his head with a frown to make his point.

   Chloe's eyes drifted down mid way to his chest.  "Apparently Lana doesn't think so.  I thought we had fingered enough freaks of the weeks to be pass thinking each other nuts."

   Clark turned his gaze skywards.  "This is over the top, Chloe.  My own parents think I need to see a shrink."

   Chloe inspected him one final time and decided he would not be forthcoming with her, so she turned and began to walk away with what she hoped was a hidden pout.  She knew that Lana always had his affection, but now in the short time of her absence, she had also collected Clark's secrets as well.

   Clark pulled his hair back with his right hand as he watched her walk away.

   "He called me last night," Clark finally said after a long moment of silence.

   Chloe stopped dead in her tracks and looked up again.  "He?" She questioned as she turned back.

   Clark took a deep breath and said the words.  "Lex called me last night."

   Even Perry, peered up from his place at the terminal screen.  

   Chloe gave a face of disbelief.  "Lex Luthor called you last night?  From where?"

   "I told you it sounded crazy," Clark raised his arms.  "I'm not fully sure I believe it myself, but I am sure I heard Lex's voice on my phone last night."

   "Whom have you told this to?"  Perry asked.

   "My folks, Lana and now you," Clark replied.  "My Mom and Dad think I was dreaming or something."

   "Did you trace the call?" Chloe added.

   "It was a dead end with a telemarketer, but I think it was suppose to end that way," Clark explained placing his hands in his jean pockets.  "Lex didn't say much, but he did say that he was in trouble, before the phone went dead."

   "This is so X-Files," Chloe commented.  "If Lex is still alive, then who was it that died in your arms at the hospital, Clark?  And who did we burry a few days later?"

   "There are allot of things that need to be explained about this whole mess," Lana piped up.  "Yet a body can be switched in a closed coffin at any time, but the death has a little more to it."

   "I'm sure if someone could find a way to steal Lex Luthor away right under his own father's nose, then they can find a way to fake his death," Perry told them.

   "So do you think it was possible that with all of the suspicious stuff around his accident, that someone could have faked his death and kid napped Lex?" Clark asked.

   "The real question would be; was there any ransom demands made since the funeral?"  Chloe spoke from her stand near the table.

   Clark replaced his concern look with one of determination.  "There is only one person who can answer that.  And I think it's time I paid Lionel Luthor a short visit."

   "What are you going to do, Clark?' Chloe asked.  "Walk into Daddy Luthor's office and asked if he is aware that someone might have his supposed dead son stashed away somewhere?"

   "Chloe has a point, Clark." Lana added.  "For all we know, Lionel Luthor has a much bigger role in all of this than he are aware.  Going to him with questions might tip him off or someone close to him who might be watching him to make sure he doesn't tell anyone."

   "Lionel was willing to let us all die, along with Lex back at the plant when we were being held hostage last year," Clark reminded.  "I'm not sure he would pay a ransom even if there were one."

   Perry ran his left hand through the hair on the side of his head as he listen to them talk.  The wheels in his mind were turning, and finally he spoke up.  "I think you kids are onto something here."

   They all turned and listened attentively.

   "What ever is going on here," he continued.  "It's allot bigger than what Luthor is telling us.  There is a story here, and I think you owe it to yourselves to follow up on it."

   "What do you suggest?" Chloe asked.

   Perry stood up and walked over to Clark.  "I think it's time that you do pay Lionel Luthor a visit, Kent."

   Clark looked puzzled.  "Under what pretence?  If he knows anything, I am sure that he won't give me the whole story."

   "That much we can bank on," Perry rubbed his chin.  

   "There is the police case against your parent's," Lana reminded them.  "You can be a concerned son and size him up at the same time."

   "That's good," Perry pointed at her.  "Meanwhile, I think it would be a good thing if a couple of us paid the Luthor Corps motor pool a visit.  I would like to get a personal look at that car myself."

   "I'll go," Lana said.  "I think I know how I can be helpful getting you in."

   Chloe gave her a rye look.  "And what do I do while you guys are all out chasing Lionel's tail?"

   "Research," Perry said with a big smile.  "What ever has happen here may not be a Luthor exclusive.  I need you to check on the leads on any similar cases of rich playboys suddenly meeting their maker in the last few months."

   Chloe let out a sigh.

   "Please," Clark spoke up.  "We all have to work together on this Chloe."  He walked over to her and stared down into her eyes taking her forearms into his hands.  "If Lex is still alive, then he is asking for my help.  I owe him to follow this wherever it will lead.  Please say that you will help us."

   She wanted to melt at the warm touch of his hands on her.  His deep green eyes were piercing her soul as he pleaded for her help.

   After a few short moments, a small smile came across her lips.  "We all owe it to Lex to get to the bottom of this."

   Clark pulled her in close for a hug as Lana involuntarily turned away.

TO BE CONTINUED

***Notes***

Thanks again for all the kind words.  It's nice to know that my stories are entertaining someone.

Thank you Marrie and Ingrid-matthews.  Just a word of warning IM, this is story is not slashy on any level.  My Clark and Lex are very close.  I hope you will continue to read, because I think there is still more to the relationship to watch even without sex.

To MitchPell, yup, that's me.  The horse was an idea I came up with for my first story and has played a part in two others since.  Watch for more on the horse in future chapters.  Oh, and if you could remember where you saw my story on a page other than FF.net, could you please send me the address.  I have given permission for my story on other sights, but never on a slash sight.  So I would like to check it out and see what they might be doing with my stories.  Thanks.

To Robyn, shout out!!!  Thanks for your kind words and I hope I am making the specail trip worth while.

Finally, I have given my Bata reader Chritin the chapter off and I edited this baby myself, so I am sorry for any mistakes and I'll try not to let it happen again.

Thank you to all of your, and please keep reading and reviewing.


	8. Chapter Eight

A Death in the Family, Part Two: Chapter Eight:

   The Luthor Corps building was a large, glass-encased structure with tinted, slate blue windows.  It towered over the city of Metropolis with seventy-eight stories of offices.  Clark felt dwarfed by its enormous presence, but he was on a mission.  Taking a deep breath, he walked into the lobby and saw from the plaque on the wall that Lionel Luthor's personal office was on the very top floor of the building.  He pressed the button and waited for it to arrive.  A large portrait on the far wall to his left got his attention.  A seven foot painting of Lionel Luthor seated at his desk was very striking, but the image of a smiling Lex standing behind him with his arm casually draped over the back of the chair got Clark's attention.  The Luthors, Lionel in particular, were very good at playing the family image for the public, and it was surprising to Clark how easily Lex seemed to go along with the games.

   The elevator's bell woke him from his stare at the painting, and he stepped aside to let the people exit the car.  After a few seconds, he entered along with a small group of other people who had been waiting with him.  A sick feeling hit Clark as he listened to the sound of Lionel Luthor's voice over the elevator's loudspeaker.  He was reading the latest stockholder's report.  Where there should have been gentle Music being piped in, the elder Luthor had found a way to make even a simple ride from to floor into a business venture.

   It took over two minutes before the car reached the top floor, and only Clark and one other person remained to get out.  The doors open to a large reception area where a round desk with a lovely young woman (who Clark thought was wearing much too much makeup) sat behind it with her earpiece to the switchboard.  Behind her, hanging from the finally varnished, blanked wall was the Luthor Corps logo in what Clark felt sure must have been real gold-plated letters.  The large area was sparsely furnished with a few seats and end tables with the latest corporate reports placed neatly on each one.  It was no surprise to Clark that these were the only reading materials.  Life to Lionel Luthor had always been about Lionel Luthor and his company, and his offices were the perfect reflection of that.

   Clark made his way over to the reception desk and smiled at the young lady.

   "Good morning," she greeted him.  "May I help you?"

   "Yes, my name is Clark Kent, and I am here to see Mr. Luthor," Clark explained.

   "Do you have an appointment?"  She asked showing her pearly white teeth.

   "No," He answered reluctantly.  "But I'm sure he will want to see me."

   "I'm sorry," she frowned.  "But Mr. Luthor should be in meetings all morning, and we won't have an opening until very late this afternoon."

   Clark leaned on the desk.  "I am sure Mr. Luthor will clear a space for me when he knows why I am here."

   "I'm sorry--" she started.

   "Call him," Clark cut her short with burning eyes.  He had not come this far to be turned around by a secretary.

   She could see that he was serious and she thought to call security instead, but she could sense that he was not a danger to her, so she chose to honor his request.

   "Mr. Luthor," she said into her mouthpiece after a few moments.  "There is a young man by the name of Clark Kent out here to see you.  He was most insistent."

   She was silently looking up at Clark while she listened.

   "Mr. Luthor would like to know what this is about," she inquired.

   Clark thought for a moment.  He only had one chance to get to Lionel with out having to force his way in, so he knew his response had to count.  After a few short seconds, he said, "It's about his son, Lex."

   She repeated what Clark said and waited for a response again.

   After a second, she pressed a switch and pointed to the glass doors to her right.  "Mr. Luthor's office is the last door on the right."

   Clark made his way to the glass partition and she pressed another button, which buzzed the door allowing him to open it.  With a simple hushed sound, Clark was inside the Luthor Corps inner sanctum.

   Lionel Luthor was dressed in his usual attire of a black suit and tie and was speaking on the phone when Clark entered the office.  He stood by the large plate glass window that encompassed the entire opposite wall from the French double doors.  The motif of the room was very subdued and spacious.  A large gray desk with a marvel fished top sat before the window with hardly any adorning other than the phone, a plotter and a Flat screen computer monitor.  There was a very large black leather executive chair behind the desk and two smaller matching chairs before it.  The walls were bare with the exception of a few diplomas and certificates of merit on the right wall, and the left wall was covered by a large metallic Luthor Corps logo like in the foyer, only these two letters were in the company colors against the stone gray back drop.

   Lionel turned from the window to face Clark when he entered, but did not attempt to discontinue his phone conversation.  A ploy Clark recognized as his attempt to show that he would be very much in control of this meeting, and it would proceed when he saw fit to do so.

   Clark took the time to wander the office and read a few of the plaques on the wall near the separate smaller door that must have lead to another office.  The walls were line with lead slats that added to the gray.  He did not want to seem impatient or rushed, allowing Lionel to think that he had the upper hand.

   Lionel continued to talk business and took his seat behind the desk, all the while not taking his eyes off of Clark who continued to roam the room.  It had been a good fifteen minutes when Clark decided he had had enough, and decided to act on getting Luthor's full attention.

   Clark made his way back to the wall with the diplomas and gently picked one off the hook that fasten it.  He read the words again while it was in his hands and turned to face Lionel who was very much interested in what the younger man was doing.

   He walked over to the desk and held the gray frame over his head with both hands and smiled at his host who watched attentively, but was not yet off the telephone line.  Clark opened his grasp, and allowed the frame to tumble from his grip and it fell the full seven feet of height to the gray carpet beneath his feet.  The matting of the floor did nothing to cushion the blow of the fall, and it shattered the frame into a thousand shard pieces.

   "Jennings," Lionel spoke into the receiver.  "I am afraid that another matter has just come to my attention and needs to be addressed."

   Clark allowed his lips to curl into a slight smile.

   Lionel hung up the phone on its base and turned his full attention towards Clark.  "I assure you Mr. Kent, destruction of my property will not be met with such calm and a non-retaliation fervor ever again." 

   "I have no intention on having to attract your attention in this way ever again either," Clark assured him.  "You are not the only person whose time is valuable."

   Lionel positioned himself in his chair.  "I think I can very well be certain that you are not losing thousands of dollars with each word spoken here like I myself am forced to endure by this intrusion.  Now be quick and to the point Clark.  Your position as my late son's playmate only allows you so many liberties with my time."

   "Very well," Clark leaned on his desk giving a harsh stare.  "What really happened to Lex the night of the accident after he left my house, and why are you trying to cover it up by implementing my family in some bogus claim of having supplied him with alcohol which lead to the crash?"

   If Lionel was surprised by these allocations, he made no indications by showing his true reaction.  He placed his hands together with each fingertip touching its mate and held them close to his lips.  He allowed a small smirk to cross his face as he spoke.  "My knowledge of my son's whereabouts and condition that night are far less informed than your own, Clark.  All I have are the doctor's words and official police documents that states that my son was driving while under the influence of a lethal level of alcohol that evening."

   Clark pushed himself away from the desk in a huff.  He spoke as he crossed the room.  "I find it very interesting that you would sight the police reports as your standing when we both know that the official report on the status of the vehicle was reported by your own company and not that of the publicly license police examiner."

   "My people in the motor pool are very well trained and versed in proper legal proceedings," Lionel replied.  "I assure you that should you bring this matter to the public attention, that all was handled in a fair and legal manner.  My son's accident was handled in the same fashion as all Luthor Corp accidents.  My staff is fully bonded and accredited in such legal procedures."

   Clark had no doubt that if he were to look into the matter, that he would find that Luthor Corps had indeed found a legal way around the law to handle their own cases even in spite of conflicts of interest.  He was not willing to give up so easily.

   "Then why are you hiding the car?"  Clark asked turning to face him.  "No one outside of LuthorCorp employees have seen the Porsche' since that night, and you have not filed a report with Lex's insurance which would have required that their people go over the damage."

   Lionel took a deep breath.  It was becoming apparent that if Clark was not coming close to something, then he was surely annoying the older man.  A task that he had partly hoped to do and he had hoped if he would make Lionel angry enough, then perhaps the CEO would unintentionally divulge something that Clark could use in his efforts to solving this riddle.

   "I have already explained how and why the vehicle has come into my possession," Lionel started sitting forward.  "The matter of the insurance is far more personal.  My son was killed by his own recklessness that night, Clark, I do not need an insurance company to remind me of such just so that I may obtain financial rewards that I have no need or desire to acquire."

   Lionel stood up and walked around the desk and approached Clark.  "I have buried my son, Clark.  I do not wish to linger in that moment or have my personal relationship with him dissected by you or anyone else."

   "Lex meant a lot to me, Mr. Luthor," Clark spoke with gritted teeth as he attempted to hold his grief down.  "He was taken from me that night just like he was from you.  Only someone is trying to blame my family and me for his death.  Someone is hiding something here, and every bone in my body is telling me that it's you who has something to hide."

   Lionel stood toe to toe with the young squared jawed man.  "I assure you Mr. Kent," he said with a determined tone.  "If my son did meet with foul play on that night, then I would be as determined as you to find out what transpired and who was to blame."

   Clark's chest was heaving up and down.  "Then help me, Mr. Luthor.  Help me find out what really happened that night."

   Lionel stared for a moment longer and then turned away.  "I have told you all I know," he said with a slightly hung head.  "My son died at his own hands that night, and several bottles of the same alcoholic beverage that were in his system were found in your trash."

   "There is more to this story," Clark pleaded with his big eyes.  "I am sure of it.  If you are not the one hiding anything, then prove it.  Have Lex's body exhumed and tested.  Find out for yourself what was really in his body that night, if anything."

   Lionel was in a much more somber mood when he returned to his chair.  "I am afraid that it would be impossible to do that at this point."  He looked up at Clark who stood over his desk.  "I had Lex's remains cremated over a week ago to prevent any further intrusions into his condition on the day of his death."

   Clark could no longer find the energy to stand and fell back into one of the seats on his side of the desk.  "Cremated?  Why would you do that?"

   Lionel studied Clark for a moment.  "Because," he spoke softly, "you are not the only person to question the nature of my son's crash.  It is enough that I have had to endure this inquiry once with the proper results, but I will not have my son's remains treated as if he were the shroud of Turin.  I will not allow his body to be dissected over and over again until you or anyone else feels they are finally satisfied with the results."

   "But Lex," Clark started.

   "Lex," Lionel's voice boomed again, "is dead Mr. Kent.  I will ask you one final time to leave this matter along and let it rest."

   Clark looked down at his hands with a lost look in his eyes.

   "Now," Lionel stood up.  "In spite of my lost, I still have a company to run, and I need to get back to my work."

   Lifting his head, Clark stared into his eyes for a moment.  "Sure."  He stood up and walked over to the door where he had come in.  "Thank you for your time, Mr. Luthor."

   Lionel made no response.

   Clark turned the knob and opened the door.  He was about to exit when he looked back one final time.  "I know you would like for me to leave this alone," he said.  "But I know that there is more to this than we are aware.  So I know you can't help me any further, but I promise you, that I will get to the bottom of this, and I will find out what really happened."

   Lionel was about to speak when Clark stopped him.  "I owe this to Lex, Mr. Luthor," he said with a frown of grief.  "Lex was not my playmate, he was my best friend."  With that said, he did not wait for a response, but stepped out the door and left.

   The older man stood still for a brief time in thought, and then he hastily picked up the phone again and pressed a number.  He waited for a voice on the other end.  "Randolph, get in here right now," Lionel huffed.  "We may have a situation."

   The Luthor Motor Pool's holding yard was on the Lower East Side of Metropolis.  Perry White and Lana Lang were able to identify the wrecked Porsche' from outside of the chain link fence.  They both knew it would be difficult to get in since the yard had a security guard posted at the main gate, which was about ten feet away from the garage building.  They sat in Perry's car and formatted a plan.  It would call on all of Lana's womanly wiles to lure the guard away and into the building away from the vehicles.

   Perry was not surprised at how quickly the minimum waged guard was lured away by Lana who approached him and pretended to be lost.  She told the guard how she was looking for the Luthor Corps offices and had mistakenly been pointed towards the motor pool instead.  Among the noisy street sounds and passerby's, she told the man that she could not understand what he was telling her, and asked if there were a more quite place where they could talk and perhaps he could show her a map.  

   Lana made it a point to punctuate the words 'show me' by bending forward and revealing her bra strap under her loose shirt with the first two buttons unfasten.  The guard was all too happy to acuminate her wishes and lead her into the garage.

   At that point, Perry made his move and stepped out of the car he had parked about a block away and rushed to the gate that had been carelessly left unlocked.  He searched out the car and began to look it over while taking pictures.  He was unsure how long he had, so he would have to work fast and take a lot of pictures hoping to catch anything later that he might have missed then.  It wasn't long before he spotted something very suspicious under the opened hood.

   "Great Caesar's ghost," he murmured.  He fell to the ground and pushed his way under the right tire and snapped a few pictures.  He dangled a thin hose in his hand and then slid over to the other side of the vehicle.  Again, he found the same tube like hose hanging freely from the body of the car with an identical piece detruding from the inner workings of each wheel.  Moving to the back of the car, he found the two tires in the same condition.

   It was a few minutes later when Lana couldn't hold off the guard any longer with out having to show more than she was willing to make public.  When she returned to the car, with her note of directions, she was surprised to find Perry already waiting behind the steering wheel in the driver's seat.

   "Did you have enough time to find anything?" she asked.

   His eyes were haunted as he looked at her.

   "What is it?" she asked again.  "You found something, so please tell me."

   Parry fiddled with the view screen of the digital camera in his hands until he found a suitable picture.  He held it up to where they both could see.

   "What is that?"  Lana questioned with a puzzled look.  "It looks like the back of a wheel."

   "That's because it is," Perry explained.  "That hose you see dangling is the brake line."

   Lana examined the picture more closely.  "Well why is it hanging?  Isn't it supposed to be connected to something?"

   "Yes," Perry answered with an equally haunted voice.  "It should be connected to the other end of the brake line which leads to the brake peddle among other things.  Each one of the brake lines to each of the wheels is like this."

   "Wait," Lana hesitated.  "Are you saying that all four break lines came loose?  Or broke off?"

   "Look at the breaking point of the lines, Lana," he pointed out.  "Those lines did not come loose at an nature ending point to the hose, and they are much too clean to have been warned out or broken off by themselves."

   Lana looked into his face for the first time.  "Oh, my God, are you saying what I think you are saying?"

   Perry took a few seconds before answering, and then with a low cautious voice, he said, "Lex Luthor's crash was no accident, Lana.  Someone cut all four of his brake lines causing him to crash when he attempted to use them."

   Lana's eyes opened wide as she looked at the picture again.

   "It was not an accident, Lana," he repeated and then added, "Your friend Lex was murdered."

   A horrible stare came over Lana's face, as she could not remove her eyes from the picture.

   Clark had not wanted to get back to the Daily Planet so quickly after his meeting with Lionel Luthor, so he thought he would take a detour and walked to the cemetery where Lex was buried a few weeks earlier.  Although he had been in a daze for most of the service, he knew where to find the Luthor plot sight.  It was a large, block-shaped stone structure about twelve feet tall and about equally squared in each proportion.  The crypt could be seen from the front gates, so Clark had no difficulty in finding it.

   Approaching the grave, which was divided, into several equal cubbyholes like spaces where a coffin was slid into place, he could read Lillian Luthor's name on the section of the tomb where she was laid to rest.  Then to his right, were the freshly carved letters with Alexander Luthor's name and dates.  Clark had to swallow hard to keep down the lump in his throat.  He ran his fingers over the letters of the name slowly.  Then with a short snorting sound, he leaned forward allowing his head to rest on the cool stone.

   Gathering all his courage, Clark stood up straight again and poised himself in front of the grave and began to fix his sight to look through the stone and see what was inside.  He was unsure of what he was actually hoping to find when he saw it.  He didn't want to see a dead friend, but if he did, it would also answer the first question and end his suspicions about the phone call.  Then if he found someone else in the grave, it would just about prove that the call was real and his friend was counting on him for help.  An empty grave would prove to be the equivalent of a false grave in Clark's mind, but wouldn't help to prove anything other than Lionel's decision to place the body elsewhere.

   After a few seconds of concentration, Clark's deeper fear was confirmed.  Lionel had not lied to him at the office.  For inside the empty grave was a small pottery jar containing the ashes of whoever was buried here.  The inscription on the urn read Lex's name and date just as the head stone had.

   "No," Clark muttered leaning his head forward again.  "Please, God, this can't be happening.  There is no way of knowing if that is Lex."  He pounded his fist a few times in the cold marble and even made a small indent.

   It took Clark a few minutes to pull himself together and he wiped away a tear.  Touching the name in the stone again, he made a vow to the man who may or may not have been inside the urn.  "I don't know what is going on here, Lex, but I promise you that I will solve the mystery that everyone is trying to keep about your accident, and I promise you, buddy, if you are not dead, then nothing on Earth or in Hell will keep me from finding you."

   He pulled back from the grave and looked into the sky.  "So help me, dear God, I will find out what they did to Lex Luthor."  Unaware of his own reaction, Clark had clenched both of his fists and held them up at his side.  The young man determined at that moment that the quest for his friend would consume his life until he had accomplished his mission.

TO BE CONTINUED

***Notes***

I would like to thank everyone who has been reading my story and posting reviews.  The reviews are what make this effort all worth the while, and I thank you so much.  Please keep them coming.

To MitchPell: Thanks for your continuous support and reviews.  

To Merrie: Thanks for your support, and I miss Lex too.

To Teri: Welcome aboard.  I always love to see new readers enjoying my work.  Please continue to let me know what you think.  It helps what little ego I have stay above water.

To TimberLover:  Please stick around, because there is allot more to come.

And in a very personal note to Holly.  I want to respond to your e-mail over the weekend, and I thought it would be best to keep it in a public forum like this, so I hope you will read my story and see this note.  I want to say that my heart his broken because we will not be able to write to each other over the net again, but I fully understand your mother's disapproval of writing to someone you have never met.  I hope you will continue to follow her wishes and I will continue to pray for you.  I hope I have been a support to you in the short time that we have known each other, as you have been a good friend to air out some of the darker places in memories with.  I will continue to check out your bloggers and search for your poems here on FF.net from time to time.  I will miss you, and as I said, I will be praying for you and that you may one day soon find the comfort of the Lord in your life.  I guess if I could leave you one word of advice as I leave, it would be a fact that I have come to realize about life, and I saw Goldie Hawn use it in an interview a while back.  That motto would be to always remember, "that this too will pass."  As my years begin to add up in life, I realize that the things that might have been eating away at me in the years past mean very little to me right now.   I have moved on and in most cases over come, but what ever they were, I now know that they have passed and now only hold a small place in my memories.  So please don't let life get you down.  Pray for truth and guidance and remember that God is always watching and you are truly never alone.

Take care of yourself kid.  My best wishes and blessings from God go with you.

Phaze


	9. Chapter Nine

A Death In The Family: Part Two:

Chapter Nine:

   Chloe Sullivan had spent the entire last two hours before the same computer monitor where Perry White and the others had left her.  She was so taken by what she was reading; she barely noticed when Lana Lang and Perry walked back into the room.  Her eyes were glued to the screen and a big grin covered her face.

   "We're back," Lana announced taking a seat on the opposite side of the table with a clear view of her.

   "Okay," Chloe replied in a nonchalant tone.  "Did you find anything?"

   Lana looked up at Perry who stood next to Chloe.  "You might want to have a look at these pictures," he told her holding up the view screen of the camera.

   Chloe turned her attention towards it with an annoyed face.  "It can't be any more classic than what I found."

   "Look," Perry coached.

   Chloe took the camera tilting it for a better view.  She glanced up at Perry and then back to the viewer.  "Is that thing dangling in the wind what I think it is?"

   "The break line," Perry replied.

   "I may be a little on the automotive impaired side, but shouldn't the break line be a constant and continuous object?"  She looked at Perry.  "I myself prefer the full line as apose to this stylish mid cut."

   "The lines were cut, Chloe," Lana piped in.  "All of them."

   A white tint came over Chloe's face at the realization of what this meant, hit home.  "Oh my God."

   "This was no accident, Sullivan," Perry said.

   "I can't believe this," Chloe gasped.  "Who would want to hurt Lex in such a big way?"

   "You may need a phone book for that one," Perry sighed.

   Chloe and Lana both shot him a suspicious look.

   "Hey," Perry raised his hand in defense.  "The kid was a Luthor, I'm sure the family has enemies all over the globe."

   Chloe shook her head in disbelief.  "This is beyond tragic.  It was bad enough when we thought it was a freak accident, but what will this do to Clark when he finds out?  How do we tell Clark?" 

   "Tell me what?"  Clark's voice came from the door.

   "Clark," Lana turned with a shock.  She had hardly had a moment to allow their findings to sink in, and was not prepared to tell Clark.

   "Chloe, are you okay?" He approached her with concern.

   "Oh Clark," Chloe covered her mouth as a tear rolled down her face.

   Clark pulled her out of the seat into a hug.  "It's alright," he spoke softly into her ear.

   "No it's not," Lana stood up.  "We found something at the junk yard, Clark."

   Clark tried to study her face from across the table.

   "What?" He asked.

   Perry White sat on the edge of the table and handed Clark the same camera Chloe had seen moments earlier.  Clark pulled away from Chloe and took it with a puzzled look on his face.

   "Is it bad?" He asked.

   "Judge for yourself," Perry walked across the room to the water cooler.

   Clark glanced at their faces for a minute and then looked at the screen on the camera.   His knees felt as if they would become weak so he inched closer to the table.

   "Clark," Lana called out to him in a soft voice.

   His head was hung low as he stared down at the camera screen with an anguished face.

   "I take it that you remember enough of your shop class to know what those lines are to," Perry approached handing Clark a small cup of water.

   "They look cut," Clark spoke in a low voice.

   "That's because they were, Kent," Perry confirmed.  "Someone sliced all four of the individual break lines to each tire and didn't even try to hide the facts."

   "The report," Clark stammered taking a drink.  "The report said drunk driving and failure to maintain the vehicle."

   "Well, no breaks would make it hard to control the car," Perry added.  "My guess would be that this was a deliberate job and someone is covering up for it.  Maybe Papa Luthor doesn't want anyone to know that his son was such an easy mark."

   Clark made his way over to the wall and leaned heavily on it.  "My God," he moaned.  "Lex was in my house with me and my family while someone was in the yard cutting his breaks."

   "Try not to think about that, Clark," Lana said.  "There was nothing you could have done about it.  You couldn't see what was happening in the safety of your own yard."

   "Unless you have x-ray vision, that is," Perry commented.

   Clark gave him a rye look.  If only he knew the truth that Clark did indeed have x-ray vision but made no attempt to use them that evening.  Who would have thought to watch for assassins in their own front yard?

   Clark spun around and leaned his head on the wall.  "This just keeps getting worst.  Lex was not killed in an accident," he closed his eyes tightly.  "He was murdered."

   It was a few minutes later when Clark had pulled himself together enough to join the others back at the computer room table.  He and Lana set to the right of Perry and Chloe who sat before the lit screen.  The two men were in the middle seats.

   "So," Perry opened up.  "Are you ready to tell us what you discovered at Luthor Corps?"

   Clark placed the empty cup on the table with a look of indifference on his face.  He folded his hands together rest his elbows on the arms of the chair.  He looked up from the corner of his eye.  "If Lionel knows something, then he's not talking."

   "Did you really think he would?" Perry questioned.

   "I don't know," Clark shook his head vigorously.  "I got there face to face with the man, and I lost it."

   "Lost it?" Lana questioned.

   "I," he hesitantly continued.  "I went there to size him up and rattle a few nerves, and I outright accused him of hiding something about Lex's accident."

   "You did what?" Chloe gasped leaning forward in her chair.

   "I accused him of hiding the truth and fabricating the accident to hide the real cause," Clark finished bowing his head in shame.

   Perry jumped up in a huff.  "That's just great, Kent.  You have destroyed the element of surprise.  Now they will surely cover their tracks."

   Clark looked up from the corner of his eye again.  "I think they have already started."

   Perry stared down with an irritated frown.  "How?"

   Clark first looked at both Chloe and Lana before returning Perry's stare.  "Lionel has had Lex's body, or who ever was in the grave, cremated."

   This time Lana gasped.  "Oh my goodness, why?"

   "Apparently we are not the only ones with questions." Clark explained.  "He said he destroyed the body so it would no longer be the subject of interest.

   "There can't be any murder if there is no body to prove it," Perry thought out loud.

   "What about the car?" Chloe asked.

   "Knowing Luthor, he has had the car trashed by now," Perry told her.  "He knows that we are on to him, and if he was willing to cover up this mess by destroying his own son's body, I doubt that the car stood a better chance at survival."

   "Even with the pictures," Chloe added.  "There is no way to prove that it's was Lex's vehicle."

   "This doesn't make sense," Lana sighed leaning forward.  "Why would Lionel want to hide a murder?  What possible reason would he have to not want Lex's killers found out?"

   "We are talking Luthor Corps justice," Perry White replied biting down on his stogy.  "My guess would be that Lionel Luthor is running his own investigation, and is looking for a little Charles Bronson justice of his own making."

   Chloe sat back in her chair with a sense of defeat.  "That sounds like the Luthor way alright."

   "Or maybe," Lana started sitting straight up.  

   "Or maybe what?" Clark questioned with wide eyes.

  "Well," she allowed her eyes to drift downwards.  "What if Lionel had something to do with the accident.  Either causing Lex's death by mistake or on purpose.  Maybe Lionel is hiding his involvement in this wreck."

   Clark gave her a look of complete repulsion.  "Not even Lionel would do that," he spoke with spite.  "Would he?"

   "Lionel did want Lex to move back to Metropolis," Chloe reasoned.  "Maybe this was his way of clipping his wings."

   "It doesn't make sense," Perry spoke up from his stand against the wall.  "If you want to place the fear of God in someone you might loosen the steering wheel of one break line, but the whole break system being sliced is surely a killer."

   "So we're back with murder," Lana spoke the words softly.

   Clark was studying his strong hands again when he spoke up, "I don't think that Lionel would resort to murder.  He wanted Lex as his heir, not to have another dead relative."

   "Okay," Perry stood up.  "This Lionel connection may be throwing us off here.  Let's just chock up his little secrets to arrogant pride and assume he's just saving the family name by keeping the killing a secret, and look else where."

   Clark made a grimacing face.  "Could we just stop tossing the word 'murder' around like it's not one of my closes friends we are discussing?"  He raised his hands in defense.  "After my phone call last night, we can't even be sure that Lex is really dead."

   Lana leaned in and place her hand on his.  "You didn't tell Lionel about the phone call?"

   Clark looked into her eyes.  "No," he returned.  "If Lex is alive, then I don't want to risk anyone else knowing that possibility until we have him someplace safe."

   "Good going kid," Perry commented walking back to Chloe.  "Now let's see if we have another lead to follow.

   Chloe looked up at him and back at the screen.  "Okay Perry, I did what you asked and I downloaded a database on wealthy heirs and checked to see if there were any reports of suspicious activities around them in the past several months and I may have found a few leads."

   Now Clark and Lana were also leaning forward to view the screen.

   She looked around to make sure she had a captive audience and continued.  "It seems that there have been at least six fatal and near fatal accidents involving young and wealthy billionaires and or heirs in the past three months."  She took a deep breath and tapped a few keys on the keyboard.  "Three did result in deaths while two are still involved in rehab.  The strange thing is all the police reports have been sealed pending further investigation, however one grief stricken father made a impassion statement moments after his son's death stating that days earlier his family had been approached by a group of unidentified terrorist who claimed that they would use American money to fund the further attacks on the United States, and they would get it from families such as his own.  If they didn't pay up, then instant road kill.  He was cut off by some official who stood close bye, but all indications given to the reporter who filed this report which was buried on page seventeen of her local paper, was that the boy's family was approached for money shortly before his apparent sky diving accident."

   "My God," Clark gasped.  "This is big, how could it have been over looked by the mainstream press for all this time?"

   "Maybe," Chloe turned to him.  "Because people like Lionel Luthor have been using all their influence to keep it covered up.  The rich and good looking sets don't like to let it be known how easy of a target they can be."

   "If this was payback for a failed black mail attempt, there is no telling how many people actually paid up," Perry said.

   "Were their any letters warning them of these attacks to come?" Clark asked.  

   "No clue," Chloe answered looking back at her screen.  "Since only one person was willing to step forward for the briefest moment, there is no telling, and I'm sure this guy is not going to say anymore, or he would have by now."

   "Then how can you be sure all these things are connected?" Lana asked.

   "Six accidents in three months with the apparent outcome being death all among the young and wealthy?"  Chloe cocked her eyebrow.  "Even Aaron Spelling couldn't produce this 90210 moment."

   "Chloe has surely hit on something here, kids," Perry agreed.  "With out Lionel Luthor's further cooperation, this is the best lead we have."

   "Wait," Clark thought of something.  "You said six accidents.  Three are dead and two in rehab and apparently not talking, but what about the sixth?"

   A sly smile came to Chloe's face.  "You're getting good at this Kent.  Yes there was a sixth accident, but there was never a police report filed.  I found it through his insurance claim."

   "If there was no report, then how can you group it with the others?" Lana asked.

   "I'm just playing a hunch," she returned.  "But I think this one might be the missing link.  If the police haven't been involved, then he may be willing to talk to us."

   "Who is it?" Clark questioned with a puppy dog look.

   Chloe pulled a piece of paper from next to the keyboard.  "He lives in Gotham City and goes by the name of Bruce Wayne."

   The name got Perry's attention. "Of Wayne Tech Industries?"

    "I think so," Chloe replied.

   "Wayne Tech," Clark commented.  "Is that all we know about him?"

   "Bruce Wayne son of Doctor Thomas Wayne and wife Martha Wayne," Lana began to read off the information from her memory.  "Orphaned at the hand of a lone gun man outside of a inner city cinema in nineteen eighty nine when he was nine years old.  Since there were no living relatives, he was raised by the trusted family butler Alfred Pennyworth and family doctor who practiced under Dr. Wayne before his death.  Her name was Leslie Thompkins.  Bruce lives of life of a billionaire playboy yet has been schooled at the best learning facility home and abroad and also has been known to dabble in the Eastern arts of self defense and mystic arts."

   Clark, Chloe and Perry all looked at her with drop jaws before she realized they were staring at her.  After a few seconds her face turned red and she turned away.

   "How do you know so much about some billionaire all the way over on the east coast?"  Chloe asked with a dump founded look.  "Do you just have the entire Biography series on A&E memorized?"

   Lana blushed again and smiled.  "No," she replied giving a cautious eye to Clark before she finished.  "I guess there is a small elite group of us of orphaned kids who get a write up in Time magazine."

   "That's right," Chloe's eyes lit up.  "It was in the same issue.  Since his parent's were killed only a few months before yours in front of him too, there was a brief comparison done on the two."

   "The 'Lost Children' they called us," Lana told them in a hushed voice.  "That was the beginning of my life long research into his life.  I guess I needed to know how he turned out."

   Clark pulled her into a hug.  "I'm sorry Lana, I guess I never could bring myself to reading that whole article."

   "So you were the kid on the cover," Perry shook his head.  "I had no idea, Lana."

   "See," Clark gave her a sweet smile as she pulled away.  "Not everyone sees you as that lost little princess."  He reminded her of an earlier conversation.

   "Yeah," she gave him a rye smile back.  "Not until I remind them of it, right?"

   "Hey," Clark put his hands over his face to mock ducking a punch.  "I'm trying to eat as little humble pie as possible here after the way I treated you at the hospital."

   "So," Chloe attempted to lead the conversation back.  "Do you think we have a chance of getting Wayne to talk?"

   Perry leaned over Chloe's shoulder.  "I think you have your 'foot in the door' person, right there with that little lady," he pointed to Lana.

   Lana gave a nervous smile. 

   "What other options do we have right now?"  Clark asked rhetorically.  "If this Wayne guy can't help place another piece of this puzzle, then I don't think anyone can."

   "Looks like we are going on a road trip," Chloe added with a huge smile.

   Clark shuffled his feet under the seat.  "I better call my folks.  We may need them to wire us more money."

   "Be careful what you tell them," Perry warned.  "There's no telling how far Luthor would go to find out what you know.  He could have the lines tapped."

   Clark nodded his head and they all walked into the next room with the other desks.

   Clark used the phone on Perry's cluttered desk to make his phone call.  He waited a few moments for it to wring and was then surprised by what he heard.

   "Kent's resident."  The voice.

   "Nell," he recognized the voice as the others looked up from what they were doing.

   "Clark," she gushed.  "Thank God you finally called.  Is Lana still with you?"

   "Yeah," he replied.  "We're with Chloe.  Hold on and I'll put you on speaker phone."  He hung up the receiver as Perry pushed the intercom button.

   "Aunt Nell?" Lana questioned. "What are you doing at the Kent's?"

   "The police asked me to stay and wait for you to call." Nell's voice told them.  They could tell there was a hint of concern in her tone.

   "The police," Clark repeated.

   "Oh Clark," Nell's voice broke.  "Something terrible has happen.  Your parents were arrested for Lex's accident.  The police have charged them with secondary manslaughter."

   "What!" Clark screamed.  "That's crazy."

   "They are sighting that case in Pennsylvania as reason for cause."  Nell explained.  "They say that if your parents supplied Lex with the alcohol that lead to his accident, then they are guilty of causing the crash.  Since the empty bottles were found on your land, that gives them a legal right to arrest your folks."

   Clark was desperately trying to hold himself together as he pulled his hair back with his hands as he paced.  "This is ludicrous."

   "Clark," Nell's voice came back.  "I am suppose to ask you to return to Smallville for questioning.  Since you are still a minor in the eyes are the law, there are no charges against you, but they are demanding your return at once."

   "Nell, this is a set up," Lana called into the speaker.

   Her voice on the other end was silent, but they knew that Nell was still listening.

   "I can't go back right now, Nell," Clark finally spoke.  "I have to solve this riddle before more people are pulled into it and are harmed."

   They could almost picture Nell searching for the right words as they waited for her response.  Then a rush of noise seemed to approach the phone as they heard her pick up her receiver.  She spoke frantically fast.  "There's something not right here, Clark.  Don't come home.  Solve this case and take care of Lana."

   Lana gasped as they heard the deliberate sound of the phone being ripped from her hand.

   "Mister, Kent," A strong male voice came over.  "This detective Willis with the Kansas state police.  I am afraid that I must insist you return to Smallville before anyone else is brought into your little game."

   Clark picked up the receiver on his end.  "What is going on here, Detective Willis?" he almost screamed.  "What are you doing to my parents?"

   "Your Mother and Father are fine, son," he tried to speak calmly.  "They're facing charges but are being treated fairly.  Now all we need is for you to return home and answer some questions."

   Clark felt as his head had been split open and his brains would spill out as he spoke.  "I can't do that officer."  He replied pulling at his hair.  "I know that you or someone higher up is on someone's payroll, and I'm betting its Lionel Luthor.  I have to find out what he is hiding, or so help me God..."

   "Don't make threats to a law enforcement officer, Clark," the police spoke firmly now.  "If you don't want to drive back, then wait right there and we will have a few officers pick you up in a few minutes."

   "What?" Clark was alarmed.  "Pick me up?"

   With those words, Perry leaned forward placing his hand on the phone's cradle ending the call.  "They've traced you, kids."

   "What does that mean?" Chloe asked with a scared look.

   "They're coming for you," Perry spoke rummaging though his desk.  "You all need to get out of here, and now."

   "My folks," Clark spoke softly holding the receiver.  "The have arrested my parents."

   "It's a ploy to throw you off track, Clark," Perry said forcing a small cell phone into the palm of his free hand.  "What ever Lionel thinks you know, it must be close to the truth, or he wouldn't have pulled this rabbit out of his hat."

   "Well, now what?" Chloe asked with her hands in the air.  

   "Get your stuff together kids, because you need to get out of Dodge and quick," Perry said hanging up his phone.  "The police will be here any minute."

   Chloe pulled her Lap Top and other personal items from the desk and shoved them into her large carry all bag.  "Where are we going?"

   Perry pulled a yellow envelope from his middle draw and handed it to Chloe.  "The best place would be Wayne Manor in Gotham City," he said.  "This is all the loose emergency mad money I have on me.  It should get you to the big city with no problem."

   "Get us?" Chloe questioned.  "Aren't you coming?"

   "Someone has to stay and run interference," he told her.  "You are alone on this 'By Line' Sullivan.  Make it a good one.  Leave a message on the voice mail of the first saved number in the cell phone, and I'll know how to reach you.  The phone is untraceable."  He shoved a power cord into her bag.  "Don't try using you computer or cells, because they will trace them."

   "But Nell," Lana finally spoke with a worried tone.

   Perry approached her and kneeled before her seat.  "I promise I'll look in on your aunt and Clark's folks and give you a report when I can."  He placed a caring hand on hers.  "These people may be Luthor's puppets, but they are still the police.  They won't hurt your parents while the whole world is watching them, and I'll make sure that the world is watching, I promise."

   "So it's just the three of us?" Clark clarified.

   "I'm afraid so, Kent," Perry stood up again.  "Looks like you are about to become an ace reporter in spite of yourself."

   Perry reached into his desk draw again and pulled out a set of car keys.  

   "Blue Ford Taurus on the second parking level, slot seventy two," he read handing the keys to Clark.  "The car is not registered to anyone at the planet, so it should take them a while before they are able to trace it.  We expect the car back in fairly good condition."

   Clark could not help smiling through his grief at the apparent ease this news hound had at such undercover work.  "This is too much."

   "Bring the story home, and we'll call it pay back," Perry smiled.  "Bring back little lord Fontal-Luthor, and the Daily Planet will owe you a job, Clark."

   Clark took the keys and shook them slightly.  "Ready, girls?"

   Lana stood up and walked over to Chloe and Perry.  "I'm ready."

   "Like we have a choice," Chloe commented checking her bag one final time.

   "I'll let you folks all know that you are fine, and I keep my eye on them," Perry said again.  "As of right now, I have no idea where you guys have disappeared to, and I won't know until you return."

   "Right," Clark smiled back taking a deep breath. 

TO BE CONTINUED:

***Notes***

Thank you all again for reading my story.  I hope I haven't bored everyone to death, yet.

To Marrie: Thanks for your kind words.  I'm glad you are enjoying the story.  Since it has taken on a life of its own, I'm sure you will have done a lot of reading by the time this is done.  (I am actually trying to wrap things up, but I also don't want to risk rushing the story just to get it done.)

To MitchPell:  Thank you for your continued reading and comments.  There are a whole ton of mysteries and secrets to be reveled as we travel on in this plot, so please keep reading and letting me know what you think.  The reviews have become my life, and I get excited every time a new one shows up.  It's helps to keep me inspired.

To Robyn: Thanks again, and a loud shout out to you.  Raise the roof.

To Teri: Thanks and I hope you continue to enjoy.

To psychogroupie: Thank you for your review.  I always love to hear from new people and those who have been following my tale for a while.  It helps to let me know I'm on track.  Please continue to read and enjoy.  As for seeing more of Lex...........  Well in this web of mysteries and lies, you never know what will happen next.

Thank you all again, and please keep writing.

Best Wishes and God Bless

Phaze


	10. Chapter Ten

A Death In The Family: Part Three:

Resurrection

Chapter 10

   They were several miles out of Metropolis on a hidden country road when Chloe pulled the blue, late model Taurus down a dirt driveway.  She ignored the protest from Clark who sat in the back seat.

   "This is crazy, Chloe," He groaned.  "We are on the run from Lionel and the law. Being here is not a good idea."

   "Weren't you the one who wanted to sneak back into Smallville and check on your folks as our first mission on this road trip?" Chloe asked glancing in to the rear view mirror at him.  "We were able to talk you out of it, and this is a lot safer than the family farm right now."

   "Besides," Lana turned in the front passenger seat to see him.  "Don't you want to see Pete and invite him along for our newest adventure?"

   Clark stared out the window with a hopeless frown.  "Of course I want to see Pete, but does he want to see us?  He still has three weeks on this summer camp counselor thing.  And Lex was never his favorite person to start with."

   "Stop being such a stick in the mud, Clark," Chloe sighed.  "Pete would never forgive us if we didn't invite him along for the ride.  Besides, it looks better for your church group if there are four friends on this journey than just you and two girls."

   "I guess," Clark agreed, reluctantly.

   The Church's campground was spacious and spread out across fifty acres of land.  It was called a campground in reference only since it had been an old military school with three large, castle-like buildings flanking the private housing of the administration in the middle, with another larger structure serving as a bunkhouse with a separate dormitory behind it.  Several of the churches in the Kansas area had purchased it a few years back and have been attempting to restore it to its original shape ever since.  The first few years had been an adventure as Clark and Pete would rummage through the old empty buildings searching out the secret rooms and discarded treasures of years gone by.  Clark had once found an old newspaper dated on the day of Queen Elizabeth's coronation.  He sat for nearly an hour reading the pages from front to back in the empty boarding room in the back building.  It was not until days later that he realized he had tossed it out with the trash and then had wished he had the foresight to save it.  

   "Here we are," Chloe announced, pulling up before the first large, stone structure building. Detached from the others in a 'L' shape formation to the right, it was once a gymnasium and was recently converted into the new sanctuary for the evening services.

   Her voice woke Clark from his remembrance of his former treasure hunting days.  He slowly opened his door and stepped out in the hot air of the summer heat.  Chloe and Lana joined him at his side.

   "This is the first year I haven't come for camp," he told them with a bit of envy in his voice.  "Pete and I have had a lot of good times here."

   "There's always next year, Clark," Chloe commented.  "It's not a toddler's camp."

   Clark gave her a half smile.

   "Clark," A voice called from the top of the stone steps.  "Clark Kent."

   He looked up and saw a middle aged man, still with a full head of lightly grayed hair standing at the entrance to the building.  "Pastor Springs," he called back with a big smile.

   The elder man walked down and gave Clark a big hug.  "I thought you were not going to make it this year."

   "I'm just here for a visit," Clark explained.  "My friends, Chloe and Lana, and I came to see Pete."

   "Of course," he turned to the girls.  "Sisters Sullivan and Lang."

   "Pastor," they both gave him a nervous nod of their heads.

   "I miss seeing you at service, Chloe," he smiled at her shaking her hand.

   "Well, I've been busy," she attempted her words with a cheer, but they came out at a groan.

   "Well, God always makes time for his flock," he returned.

   "Right," she sighed placing her nervous hands in her jean pockets.

   "And Lana," he shook her hand.  "How have the choir practices been going in my time away?"

   "Very well," she beamed back.

   Chloe turned away in disgust and Clark could swear he heard her whisper something under her breath.

   "Do you know where we can find Pete?" Clark asked as small group of happy young boys ran by.

   "Yes," Pastor Springs smiled.  "He has kitchen duties today, and I believe he should still be there cleaning up from the lunch rush and preparing for the dinner meal."

   "Thank you," Chloe said hurriedly, and turned towards the white building several yards away that served as the cafeteria.

   "Clark," Pastor called before he could leave.  "I was wondering if I could have a moment of you time in private."

   "Of course," Clark smiled politely.  He turned to the girls.  "Go on ahead and I'll catch up."

   Chloe was already half way there and Lana nodded her approval.

   Pastor Springs' office was a small room in the second white wooded building that served as his private quarters for his time here, and was one of the few places that was air-conditioned.  The elder man wiped his brow as he walked around his desk.

   "You must have ice water in your veins, Clark," he jokingly commented as he sat down in his seat.  "I don't believe I have ever seen you break a sweat."

   "I do a lot of farm work," Clark made the excuse.  "I guess it has helped me to build up a stamina for the heat."

   "That must be it," he eyed his young charge suspiciously.  In all the years he had known the young man, there were a lot of things that did not add up, but he knew that he could always trust Clark when he needed to.

   The office was small and sparsely furnished for his short few weeks here each year.  The Pastor tugged at his polo shirt to air himself out.  "I thank the Lord for the day they invented air-conditioning."

   "It's nice," Clark grinned nervously taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk.  "Was there a reason for you inviting me in here?"

   Pastor Springs studied him for a short minute.  "Is everything all right at home, Clark?"

   It was a simple question, but at the moment he was unsure how to answer.  "Why do you ask, sir?"

   The Pastor took a deep breath and then answered.  "I got a phone call a few hours ago from a concerned sister in the church.  She tells me that your parents have been arrested."

   Clark shifted his weight in the chair nervously.  "Yeah, well," he searched his thought for the proper answer.

   "I have known Jonathan and Martha a very long time, son, and I don't think I have ever seen them drink, much less offer or force alcohol on another person," Spring told him with a concerned voice.  "What is going on down there in Smallville, Clark?"

   Clark stared at the floor for a moment and then back up at his Pastor.  "I wish I knew, sir.  Everything has gotten out of control in the past few weeks."

   "And it all stems from Lex's death?" Springs added.

   "Yes, Pastor," Clark nodded.  "There is some great mystery surrounding his death, and I think his father is trying to cover it up by inventing this story about my folks."

   "Would Mr. Luthor do something like that?"

   Clark tilted his head in a half nod.  "I think so, and I know a lot of other people agree with me."

   "Do you think that Lionel Luthor has something to do with why the police are looking for you?"

   This last statement got Clark's attention and he sharpened up in the seat.  "The police?"

   "Yes, son," the Pastor nodded.  "They called about an hour ago and asked me to inform them if I saw you.  Is there more to this story you are not telling me?"

   "No," Clark almost jumped up.  "I mean, not really.  Lionel kinda knows that we are onto this being some big mystery, and I think he's trying to stop us from uncovering something."

   "Are you sure about this, Clark?" He raised a concerned brow.

   "Yes, Pastor," Clark, insisted.  "Not only us, but a reporter at the Daily Planet, also."

   Pastor Springs was in deep thought for a few minutes.  "Well, do you have any leads?"

  Clark was hesitant to answer, but decided that if he could not trust his pastor, then whom could he trusted?  "Yes, sir."

   He held up his hand before Clark could say anymore.  "I don't need anymore information, Clark.  I don't want to have to lie or cover up for you if the police show up here later.  You are one of the most responsible young men I have ever met, son, and I am trusting that you know what you are doing in this matter."

   "I do," Clark gave him an assuring smile.  "As much as I can be."

   Pastor Springs slapped his hands on the desk.  "Then there is only one thing left to do before I let you get on your way."

   Clark gave him a questionable stare.

   "We will pray together, Clark," Pastor Springs gave him a large smile.

   The cafeteria was a small, wood framed building nestled between the two large stone buildings connected to the white, double decked, private living quarter's house.  It was only one story high, and appeared to be small from the outside, but once you got past the fifteen foot wide front exterior of the viewable frame and entered the two double doors and walked past the foyer, it was clear that this structure extended back for several yards between the larger buildings and took the space of about a half of a football field.

   Once past the entrance hall, there was a very large seating area with several tables and folded chairs of all types and colors that made up the dining hall.  The two sidewalls were lined with windows that viewed the small passageway between the structures, but were primarily to allow some natural light into the hall.  At the far end were two sets of double doors on either side, which lead into an area lined with tables on the inner wall to hold utensils and serving trays across from the display and serving carts where the food was placed for the campers to choose their own desired meals depending on that day's menu.  Behind the serving counter was another wall leading to the large kitchen and service area where the food and dishes were prepared each meal.

   Chloe and Lana made there way into the service area where they found Pete Ross wiping down the empty service carts with a clean rag.  He was dressed in a white tee shirt and white work pants that were covered by a slightly stained full apron of white canvas type cloth.  He wore a hairnet over his short-cropped hair, and the sight made Chloe giggle as she approached him.

   "Now this would make a perfect picture for the return issue of the Smallville High Torch," she joked.  "How I spent my summer slaving away at youth camp, by Pete Ross."

   He looked up from his work.  "Very funny, Chloe," he gave her a snide grin.  "I'm sorry to say that not all of us were able to land a posh summer inter ship at a highly celebrated newspaper.  I chose the higher road and decided to volunteer my time for a worthy cause."

   "Since when is wiping days old mac and cheese from a counter a 'worthy cause'?" She continued to rib him.

   He sighed with a deep breath and continued the last of his wiping.

   "Don't let Chloe get to you, Pete," Lana chimed in with her own smile.  "I for one think that service to our fellow man is a noble cause."

   Chloe raised an eyebrow.  "This coming from a woman who slops java in an old abandon movie house for a living.    Minimum wage and mundane might be enough for you small town types, but I want the luxury and adventure of a hard hitting journalist."

   "So why did you girls come here?"  Pete asked as he leaned on the glass showcase.

   "Aren't you supposed to ask if we want fries with that, or something?" Chloe continued to joke.

   "Okay, Chloe," Lana sighed.  "Your blue collar versus white collar tripe is well noted, but let's move on."

   Chloe leaned against the same counter as Pete and looked him square in the eyes.  "You know why we are here, Pete.  We explained it on the phone."

   "Oh, yeah," he pushed himself away.  "The whole mystery of the possible missing Lex Luthor and the true cause of his accident."

   "Right," Chloe agreed.

   Pete walked over to a large basing of dirty dishes a few feet away.  "Well like I told you on the phone, Chloe.  I am not interested."  He picked up the tray and turned towards the kitchen behind him.

   "But you never explained why," Chloe announced with an exasperated voice.

   Pete pushed his way through a double set of metal doors into the kitchen.

   Chloe and Lana gave each other a look of disgust.

   At the end of the lined up counters, Chloe found a small opening and slid her slender form through, setting a path to follow Pete's retreat back behind the wall.  Lana took her cue and made the same journey.

   When they entered the cluttered area of grills, coolers, tables and other large size kitchen tools, they saw Pete had made his way towards the back where there was a large sink filled with soapy water.  He dumped the contents of his basin into the liquid and began to walk back to the large table in the center of the room.  There were two other people in the kitchen who were busy preparing for the next meal.  Pete gave a sigh of exasperation when he saw the girls had followed him.

   "What is your problem?" he asked.  "Can't you take a hint and leave well enough alone?"

  "I want an answer, Pete," Chloe demanded with her hands on her hip.  "This is not like you.  You just don't show a lack of interest when there is a mystery to solve."

   Pete wiped his head with his apron and leaned back on the table.  "I am sorry, Chloe, but I don't have time to climb into the mystery machine with you, Daphne, and Fred.  I am not interested in spoiling old man Luthors plan to spook you out."

   "Clark could really use his friends around him right now," Lana spoke up with concern.  "That phone call he thought he got from Lex is really freaking him out, and he could use the support."

   They could tell that Pete was also worried about his good friend Clark, but he was staying strong to his determination of not giving in.  He turned away with a hint of shame and said in a low voice,  "I'm sorry, but I can't help you.  You know how I feel."

   "No, I don't," Chloe approached him.  "I don't believe that line you gave me over the phone.  That was not you saying those horrible things."

   "They're true," Pete raised his head to the heavens as if to hold back his anguish.  "I meant what I said."

   "Then why can't you face me and say it to my face, Pete?" she said harshly.

   He lowered his head and they could see his arms begin to shake.

   "You can't say it because you don't mean it," Chloe forced the subject.

   "Yes, I do," he said in slow deliberate words with gritted teeth.

   Chloe grabbed his right arm with her left hand.  "Then say it, Pete.  Say the worst thing I have ever heard you utter and when you do, you had better mean it, because once it is spoken you can't take it back."

   "Alright!" He screamed as he began to turn around with tears of anger streaming down his face.  "I said it before and I'll say it again.  As far as I am concerned, the only good Luthor is a dead Luthor!"

   Both Chloe and Lana gasped at the sound of the words said with such hatred.  They both covered their mouths and let out a small gasp of disapproval.  Pete watched the horror in their eyes.  Even though Chloe had heard the words over the phone, she never thought he would be able to say them to her face.  A look of hurt soon replaced her surprise and horror.  She lifted her arms to reach out to him, but all of them were stopped dead by the hush squeak of the metal door leading to the service area that had just been opened.

   All three of them turned and saw Clark standing between the two rooms with the most hurt and confused look they had ever seen on his face.  He stood as if in shock and barely moved a muscle, allowing the door to tap against his arm as it swung back to close.

   "Oh, God, Clark," Pete let out in a pleading voice.  "I didn't know you were standing there.  You were not supposed to hear that."

   Clark's eyebrows creased in disapproval.  "I figured that, Pete."  He slowly pushed the door again and made his way into the kitchen.

   The other two young camp assistants who had been working in the kitchen had disappeared and made themselves scarce.  The four friends remained alone in the kitchen as Lana and Chloe watched Pete and Clark stare each other down.

   "I'm sorry, Clark, you were not suppose to hear that," Pete repeated.

   Clark did not say a word.  He finally ended his stare-off and allowed his eyes to drift to the floor.  He searched his mind for words to say, if any were to be found.  Then as if hit by a gentle nudge of inspiration, he spoke.  "Lex liked you, Pete.  He was nothing like his father."

   "We don't know that, Clark," Pete replied in a shaky voice.  "Lex was just starting out, he just didn't have a chance to be like his old man."

   Clark rubbed his face hard with his hands.  "Lex never did anything to you."

   "They stole my families cream corn factory," Pate's voice took a harsher tone.

   A look of amazement came over Clark's face.  "That was thirteen years ago and you were barely three at the time.  What possible effect could it of had on you?"

   "They took my family's livelihood and made a fortune from the land and buildings," Pete explained.

   "They opened a crap factory which supplied Smallville with hundreds of jobs," Clark returned with raised arms.  "You don't make a fortune off of fertilizer, Pete.  Besides, I seem to remember being told that your family used the money to send your dad through law school.  Now he's a lawyer."

   "He did what he had to so we would survive, Clark," Pete snorted.  "Luthor Corp has been raping Smallville ever since.  Lex would have turned out just like his old man if given the chance."

   Clark turned away and leaned on the table next to Pete.  "Wouldn't Lionel have had you arrested?"

   Pete remained silent as Clark stared up at the ceiling.  "I was at the mansion before Lex's accident, and they were repairing the damage from the storm, and while the workmen were there, I saw them ripping up the drywall in his study where there were still several bullet holes and lead settled into those cracks."

   A look of shame came over Pete's face but he remained silent.

   Clark choked back his own emotions as he continued.  "I lost count of just how many there were, Pete.  Was it five or six?" He paused for effect looking down at the floor.  "I guess it didn't really matter, because to Lex, it didn't."

   "I," Pete shaky voice started. "I was under the effects of that stupid flower or whatever it was.  Man, I don't even remember trying to kill him."

   "But Lex did," Clark stood on his own again.  "He had to face down the barrel of a gun in your hands while you fired, and he still never filed charges or tried to have you arrested.  He even paid to find the cure that saved your life."

   "Clark, that's not fair," Lana objected from a few feet away.  "We all know that Pete was feeling a little rejected since Lex came to town.  The Nicodemus flower worked on that hurt."

   "We've all felt a little neglected by you when Lex showed up, Clark," Chloe added.

   Clark stood in the middle of the room for a moment.  "Let's face it guys, there is not a person in this room that hasn't either tried to hurt, offend or steel something from Lex for what ever reason we might have had, but he kept giving us another chance and he kept trying to prove his loyalties with interviews for the school paper, joint business ventures with teenagers and just trying to be there for us when ever he could."

   "Clark," Chloe spoke up with tears in her eyes.  "We don't hate Lex, we just hate that you would rather spend time with him than us."

   Clark rubbed his face again.  His eyes were becoming puffy from the tears he too was forcing back.  "I honestly tried to never neglect you guys, I swear, but why do you think I spent so much time with Lex?"

   He stood before Pete.  "Lex never made a bet between my best friends four out of five mornings a week that I would, yet again, missed the school bus.  There were no snide remarks at every turn or the constant put-downs."

   Pete hung his head in shame.

   Clark then walked over to Chloe.  "He was never the other best friend who wagered that I would make a complete fool of myself when I saw Lana each day.  At least when he investigated my life, he had good reasons, and he never questioned the validity of my adoption or the company that handled it.  He also dropped it when I asked him to."

   Chloe couldn't help her tears from falling.  She simply turned away.

   Lana now, too, began to tear up as he passed by her with a knowing look in his eyes, but he chose to remain silent

   When he got to the double doors, Clark looked back at his three remaining friends.  He felt remorse for the hurt he caused, but not the words he had said.  He slowly turned towards the door.

   "I'm sorry," he spoke softly into the metal.

   As he pushed pass the door Chloe called out.  "Wait Clark, where are you going?"

   "I need to walk to clear my head for a few minutes," he told them.  "I'll be back."  In a hesitant after thought, he added again.  "I'm sorry."

   It was forty-five minutes before Clark made his way back to the parked car where a somber Chloe and Lana were waiting for him.  The summer heat was streaming off the hood in a haze of mixed colors.  He could see that the two young women were being careful not to speak.

   He walked past them and placed his hands on the top of the vehicle.  "I have to do this, guys.  I'll understand if you want to go home instead.  I have to finish this journey even if it means I do it alone."

   Lana looked at Chloe with an understanding glance, and then she walked over to Clark.  "We are in this together, Clark.  We are not going to back away from you or this mystery about Lex."

   "We already knew how much of a great guy Lex was," Chloe added stepping in.  "Your little impassioned speech back there just brought it all out to the open again."

   Clark did not turn to them, but instead looked up to the birds flying overhead.  "I don't know why I keep hurting the people closest to me these days.  I didn't mean that whole tirade in there."

   "We understand," Lana put her hand on his arm.  "Lashing out is sometimes part of the grieving process.  What Pete said only set it off all the quicker."

   Clark crossed his arms and rested them on the top of the car and then leaned his head on them.  "I don't even know what I am doing anymore."  He said in a muffled voice.  "Am I trying to solve this mystery for me or for Lex?  God, I don't even know if he's alive or dead."

   "You heard his voice on the phone, Clark," Chloe said with concern.

   "I know, but what if it was all a lie," he turned to them with a wretched pained look on his face.  "What if we solve this mystery, and Lex is still dead?"

   Lana and Chloe both moved in for a hug.  "Then you will know for sure," Chloe replied.

   The girls had returned to their seats in the car when Clark opened his door and turned to take one last look around.  He was surprised to see Pete running across the field with a large paper bag in his hands.  He ran to Clark and stopped before him with short breaths that were taking in the afternoon heat.

   Clark didn't know what to say.  They both had said some horrible things in the kitchen, and it was unclear of who should be more sorry, so he remained silent.

   Pete was the first to speak holding up the bag.  "I asked the Pastor and he said I could make you guys some sandwiches to take with you."

   "Thanks," Clark said in a voice barely above a whisper as Pete handed the bag to Lana through the open window.  Then the two young men were standing silent face to face again.

   "I..." Clark started.

   "Hey look, Clark," Pete cut in, not making eye contact.  "I am really sorry about what I said back there.  I was out of line."

   Clark had to hold down a secret smile as he said with anguish.  "I'm sorry, too, Pete.  I just heard what you said and I lashed out."

   "I really hope you do find Lex or at least whoever killed him," Pete added.  "I guess I needed to be reminded of how much of a good guy he really was."

   "Thanks, Pete," Clark smiled openly this time.  "That means a lot to me.  I'm sure Lex would thank you too."

   Pete opened his arms for a hug.  "So are we, like, buds again?"

   "We always will be, Pete," Clark answered and leaned in for a hug.

   "Oh, our boys are playing nicely again," Chloe, joked from the drivers seat.

   The two guys slapped each other's back before pulling away.

   "I actually wish I could go with you guys," Pete said as Clark got into the back seat.  "But I did promise Pastor Springs a whole six weeks."

   "I understand," Clark leaned out the window.  "You make sure you call me the minute you get back to Smallville and we'll go drink the Talon dry."

   "Sounds like a plan," Pete laughed.  He shook Clark's hand one last time.  "In the meantime," his tone became serious.  "You prove us nay-sayers wrong, and you find out what really happened to Lex."

   "We will," Clark waved as Chloe began to pull away.

   "Be careful guys," Pete yelled as they rolled away.  "And come back safe."

   Clark waved back to Pete as he watched the car roll down the dirt road and out of sight.

   Meanwhile, elsewhere:  The room was dark and dank.  The widow blinds, if there were even any windows, were drawn and kept out the bright afternoon sun.  All the lights in the room that could be seen were the tiny red and green service lights of some of the apparent machines and equipment that peppered the area around the room.  Occasionally, there would be a moan or a hushed cry from the one occupant of the space.  Most of the time the area was silent and black.

   A door slowly opened revealing the dim light from the hall as it flooded through the crack and formed a wide stream across the middle of the enclosure.  The ray of light cut across what looked to be the foot of a bed with two mounds slowly moving beneath a yellow knitted blanket.  A soft groan filled the room.

   Then a shadowy figure crossed the light from the hall and entered the room.  The light was to the person's back, so all that was seen was a silhouette against the backdrop of the glow.  The shadow made its way towards the center of the room.

   The glint of the head of a needle sparked in the light against the shadow and rose above the bed near the top.

   "No, please not again," a horsed voice, groaned in the dark.  "Please."

   "I'm sorry," the shadow spoke softly placing the tip of the syringe into a small plastic tube.  "I have my orders."

   The darkness sighed with a moan.

   The shadow pulled the needle back and it, too, disappeared into the darkness.  "Sleep well."

   Making the same path that it had made on its entrance, the shadow disappeared through the opening taking all what little light it had cast into the room with it.  The room again fell into complete silence and darkness.

   After a few seconds, there was a rustling of movement from the center as if someone moving their legs slightly under the covers, and then the very faint hushed tone of a voice spoke one word.  "Clark." Then it was gone, into the silence, as the light had done moments earlier.

TO BE CONTINUED...

***Notes***

Wow, thanks again for all the good reviews.  Please keep them coming.

To Suz:  Thanks for your kind words.  It does my heart good to know that I have hooked another one.  Please keep reading, because the ride continues.

To Merrie:  Thanks again for reading and commenting

To MitchPell: Thanks for your continued support.  You may have hit on one or two things along the way, but then again, you may not. =)

To Dark Angel:  Thank you for your compliment.

To Robyn: Shout Out and thanks.  I'm trying hard with the suspense.

To Teri: My head is about to explode with all these nice compliments.  Thank you all and please keep writing.  The support has made the story even more fun to write and keeps me inspired.

Finally, I know this chapter doesn't contribute a whole lot to the continuance of the story, but I thought some people might be interested in knowing what Pete's take on this whole mystery would be.  I based most of the chapter on his one line, "The only good Luthor is a dead Luthor."  The rest is mostly filler you build on it.  I also couldn't let you think that I would let my version of Clark forget to pray from time to time.  As for Pete and the mysterious dark room, you haven't seen the last of either.

Thanks again, and please keeping sending those up lifting reviews.

Phaze


	11. Chapter Eleven

A Death In The Family: Part Three 

**Chapter 11**

   The ride to Gotham City took longer than Clark Kent, Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang had hoped it would, and they did not arrive until the next night when the sun had just gone down and the dark shadows of night descended on the grim city.  They were also dealing with the one-hour time changed that was throwing their perception off. They were tired and wanted to rest, but they knew that they could not waist any more time, so they made their way to where directions said the Wayne manor would be located.

   Clark eyed the deserted road suspiciously as they drove down the country lane to the large mansion on the hill.  Darkness deeper than the night seemed to cover the ominous structure as they approached.  Adding to the impending doom ahead, a storm seemed to sweep in from nowhere, and by the time they reached the giant iron rod gate, a downpour began to drench the area.

   Lana Lang lowered her window and pushed the intercom button on the short podium near the entrance.

   "This place would give the Luthors the creeps," Chloe commented peering through the windshield at the shadowy building on the horizon.  "Lex's mansion looks like Cinderella's castle compared to this haunted house."

   "I usually don't agree with your exaggerations, Chloe," Clark said struggling to see the house.  "But I would have to say you are right on the mark with this call."

   "I don't think anyone is home guys," Lana turned to them.  "I rang the buzzer three times and still no answer."

   Clark eyed the contraption for a moment.

   "Don't these places have a ton of servants?" Chloe remarked.

   "Maybe the buzzer is faulty or something," Lana added.

   "No it's fine," Clark spoke with squinted brows still focus on the box.

   "And you know because you can see the inner workings of the buzzer?" Chloe asked with heavy sarcasm.

   Her words got his attention and he jolted his stare away from his use of his x-ray vision.  "No, of course not," his voice broke for a second.  "I saw the little red light flash under Lana's hand when she pressed the button."

   Lana pulled her hand away from her fifth try with a sigh.  "Looks like there is no one home, guys.  We came this whole way tonight for nothing."

   "Well what do we do?" Chloe questioned.  "We spent a large portion of Perry mad money on gas and food on the way here.  I don't know if we have enough for rooms at a hotel."

   "You didn't tell us that," Lana shot her a disgusted look.  "Where were you planning on us spending the night?  We can't use our parent's plastic or have someone wire us more money."

   "I was hoping to pull a Blanche Dubois and depend on the kindest of strangers," Chloe told her.

   "In that place?" Lana pointed at the mansion.

   "I need to get up to the house," Clark told them.

   "How?" Chloe asked looking back at him.

   A grin came across Clark's face.  "Like I always did at Lex's place.  I'll squeeze through the gate."

   "That's illegal, Clark," Chloe sighed.

   "We have to get in there tonight," Clark reminded her.  "We don't have a choice."

   "But Clark," she started.

   "Let is go, Chloe," Lana said in a harsh tone.  "We have no food, money or place to stay, and I have not showered in about thirty six hours.  Let the man squeeze though the gate."

   "Wow," Chloe stared at her for a moment.  "Cheerleader burn out, it's not a pretty sight."

   Clark slid across the seat and turned up the collar on his lightweight summer coat.  "I'll be right back."

   Clark stepped out into the hot summer air.  He had hoped the rain would have cooled the night off, but instead, it had only acted in creating a sauna like effect with the rain radiating the heat off the scorched pavement.  He walked a few feet away from the car into the darkness of the night out of sight from Lana and Chloe's view.  He had been able to slide his slim form through the bars of the Luthor mansion, but he could tell these iron rods were less spaced and would provide a slightly bigger challenge.  He found a few bars that he thought would be harder to notice from the road behind a large bush.  Clark grabbed a strong hold on each side and pulled the two steel objects in opposite directions until he made an opening that he was sure would accommodate his figure.

   Sliding onto the Wayne Manor property, it struck Clark strange that there would not be better security on these stately grounds.  Would not a man who witnesses the deaths of his own parents be more inclined to higher precautionary measures?  He shrugged off the notion and made a slinking type run across the lawn to a large water fountain in the center of the field.  His purpose was not to break in enter, but he felt he needed to keep his presence unknown until he could get a better idea of what he was in for.

   Easing his way around the fountain, Clark thought he saw the slight glow moving across the large bay window inside the building.  The structure was three stories high with several annex-attaching additions that could have been built at different times.  It was partly mortar and partly bricks with two or three small balconies outside of some double doors on the upper floors.  The house was well over a hundred years old and reeked of old English money.  It seemed that gargoyles and art-sculptured statues were all over the manor as well as the grounds.  The topper was a large tower like round structure at the left corner of the building with an extremely high point.  Clark remembered watching a show on the discovery channel that had explained that in the early days of nautical history in this country, homes were often built with the tall watch towers for people to watch over the waters in the horizon for love ones returning from sea or for river merchants.  This house seemed to be miles from any waterways with the exception of a small stream that ran behind the manor that he noticed from the road when they were up the hill. So he determined that this tower was built for its second desired purpose of architectural enhancements.

   Clark had made his way to the far corner of the fountain where he had decided to make is run for a closer view of the moving light. When he went to stand up, suddenly with out warning, he felt as if something had clipped his left leg and Clark fell backwards onto the wet grass with a soggy thud.

   The fall momentarily knocked the wind from his lungs, but Clark quickly gathered his senses and determined that he was no longer alone, but he could not see his assailant.  He braced himself on the edge of the fountain and pulled himself up to his feet.

   "My name is Clark Kent from Smallville Kansas," he spoke with a groan as he stood.  "I didn't mean any harm by coming here, I'm looking for Bruce Wayne."

   Clark was leaning on the stone edge when he felt another jolt hit him on the back, and he decided to go with the blow instead of tensing up and possibly hurting his assailant with his strong form.  He fell forward into the water and hit his shoulder against the centerpiece of a slightly dressed woman pouring a constant flow of liquid from the jug in her arms.  His blow managed to shift the stone carving a few inches.

   With great humility, Clark pulled himself up and turned to face the night's blackness.  Between the dark and the heavy rain, it was nearly impossible to get a proper view of his surroundings, much less of his combatant.

   "Look, I don't want to fight," Clark shook his head splashing water.  "I just need to see Mr. Wayne, it's important."

   From the corner of his eye, Clark got the slight glint of a boot heal in the darkness aimed at his face.  He tried to go limp, but naturally tensed up slightly when the boot impacted his cheekbone.  He threw himself in the direction of the blow and rolled with the great force that knocked him off the fountain and back onto the wet grass.  This time Clark could swear he heard the distinct sound of a person in pain just as the blow hit.

   Deciding to keep the passive stance, Clark lay motionless on the lawn and waited to see if there was going to be another attack.  He briefly attempted an x-ray scan hoping to see his unwanted opponent inner structure if not his actual form, but the assailant seemed to have left the area.

   Still Clark remained dormant knowing that a blow such as he was given would have knocked out a normal man.  It was ten seconds before he noticed the approaching light to the spot where he laid.

   Clark looked up into the face of a middle-aged man holding a battery operated camp lantern over him.  The man peered through the cover of a lightweight raincoat down at him.  He took one glanced and announced in a very British gentlemen's tone.  "Oh dear, what have we here?"

   Clark had been gone for several minutes when Lana and Chloe who remained in the car began to worry and speak among themselves.  

   "Did you see where he went?' Lana asked Chloe squinting her eyes in an attempt to see into the darken field before them.

   "No," Chloe responded trying the same maneuver.  "I didn't even see him slip through the bars.  He walked behind the bushes and disappeared."

   Lana turned to her with a worried brow.  "It's been a long time, do you think we should get out and look for him?"

   Chloe did a full circle to see out of all sides vehicle.  "I don't know.  Between the rain and the dark, we could walk right pass him and not know it."

   Lana took a deep breath.  "Well," she exhaled.  "It's been a long time and we should do something."

   The faint squeaking sound of metal being moved across cement was then heard.  They jumped and stared at each other for a moment.

   "What, what was that?" Chloe asked in a stammering voice.

   "I don't know," Lana replied in kind.

   Chloe leaned forward slightly and peaked out the windshield.  "The gate," she announced.  "It's being opened automatically.  Someone is letting us in."

   "Or coming out to get us," Lana added with stammering lips.

   They stared at each other for a moment and waited for the other to say what the next move should be.  After a short wait, Chloe nodded her head, and Lana took that as an indication and the car moved forward.

   The ride to the front door was about a third of a mile away from where they started.  Chloe followed the path carefully until the front stoop light could be seen clearly.  They both admired the lavish luxury of the gigantic building.

   Stopping at the front door, they noticed as a shadowy figure opened it and revealed the lit foyer beyond.

   Each taking a deep breath and a gulp of air opened their doors in turn and made a mad dash towards the open door.  Slipping into the hall, they uncovered their heads and began to take in the view of the grand foyer.

   "Good evening miss Sullivan and Lang," the slim gentleman with the black suit and vest with polished shoes and a thin mustache under his slightly balding head of hair.  "Do come in and make yourself at home," he spoke with a British accent.

   "Thank you," Chloe eyed him with a suspicious look.  "Do we know you?"

   "No, of course not," he laughed.  "I am Mr. Wayne's man servant, Alfred Pennyworth."

   "Yes, of course," Lana smiled holding out her hand.  "I'm Lana, Lana Lang."

   Alfred shook her hand and slightly bowed.  "So very nice to meet your acquaintance Miss Lang."

   "Lana," she suggested.

   "Miss Lana," he returned.

   "No, just Lana," she blushed.

   "Miss Lana should do nicely." He interjected.

   Lana shrugged her shoulder.

   "Since you know our names," Chloe concluded.  "Does that mean you have met Clark?"

   "Yes," Alfred said closing the door behind them.  "Young mister Kent is in the lavatory changing into some dryer cloths.  I am afraid his previous attire was quite soaked in the rain fall."

   Alfred began to walk down the hall.  "If you will fallow me to the sitting room, mister Kent and master Wayne should be with you shortly."

   The girls shrugged and fallowed their host down the long corridor.  

   Chloe stopped at the bottom of the large staircase in the grand hall to admire a huge grandfather clock against the far wall.  She hesitated only a moment, and then returned to her walk.

   The sitting room reminded them allot of Lex's study with it's large fireplace which was brightly lit ablaze that night, and it's large expensively attired sofas seats and furnishings.  Everything there seemed to be soft or shinny.  The room was awash with various tones of gray and gold, and what little light there was, even from the fire, seemed dimmed.

   "I shall retrieve some refreshment," Alfred said as he exited the room through a smaller door than the French ones they had entered, off to the left side of the room.

   Lana took a moment to admire the room.  "This place is so big and beautiful," she said running her hand across the stone mantle.

   "I don't know," Chloe replied with a tilted head taking a look.  "This place is just a little too gothic for me.  I mean it makes the gloom and doom of Lex's place look like Chunky Cheese."

   "If you haven't noticed while we were driving through," Lana turned to her.  "The whole town is a little gothic, hence the Gotham."

   "Did you see some of those buildings down town," Chloe chuckled.  "I swear the architects must have been high when they designed this town."

   "Nell and I drove through Gotham once before on our way to a horse show," Lana told her.  "And I swear it was raining then too."

   Their conversation was interrupted when the side door where Alfred had exited was opened and Clark entered.  He was wearing a slate gray silk button down shirt he kept un-tucked from his black wool blend knitted slacks.  The cut was very flattering and made for a loose relaxing fit.  He blushed when he saw the girls and looked down at his milk white gym socks.

   "Well this is a new look," Chloe commented as she approached.

   "I kinda like it," Lana joined in.  "Brings out the real…" she peaked at how the material rested on his chest, "man in you."

   "Okay girls," Clark blushed again.  "I know it's a little GQ," he pulled at the top with his hand.  "But it's what Alfred gave me to wear.  My own cloths were soaked through.  The only thing he didn't have were shoes in my size."

   "We heard about your cloths," Chloe smiled.  "How does it feel to look rich and famous?"

   "I don't know," he shook his pants at the hems.  "Lex could always pull off wearing these fancy designers, but I feel more at home in blue jeans and a tee shirt."

   "Apparently our host would like us to be comfortable," Lana said walking over to where Chloe and Clark stood by the lit fireplace.  "It's not everyone who would give a change of cloths to an uninvited guest."

   "Have you met him, Clark?" Chloe asked.

   "No, but I had a run in with the security guard, I think," Clark replied with a questionable look on his face.  "I never actually saw his face, but someone dropped kicked me in the yard and then disappeared.  That's how my cloths got soaked."

   "I haven't seen any security around here," Chloe said eying the pictures on the mantle.  "You would think a place like this would have an army to protect it being so close to Gotham."

   "What's wrong with Gotham?" Lana asked her.

   Chloe turned her attention to her friends again.  "Gotham has the highest crime rate per capita than any other US city.  Apparently our host was only one of its victims when his parents were slain.  Gotham also has a high unemployment rate and a gaggle of wasted resources.  It use to be one of the countries highest industrial towns, and then the early effects of NAFTA began to effect it and everything nearly shut down during the Clinton years.  The city's location, near all of the major transportation lines and its need for jobs, has made it a haven for drug importers and other illegal cargo along the docking lines.  Gotham has been dubbed the 'American Beltway To Crime'."

   "Why would anyone want to live in such a sad place?" Lana questioned.

   "When you don't have the resources to leave," Clark put in.  "You learn to make do with what you have."

   "I guess that means even turning to a life of crime," Chloe said bending before the roaring fire and warmed her hands.

   The conversation was again interrupted by the open of the two double doors to the right of where they had come in.  The three of them turned and Chloe stood up to see a young man with black hair and blue eyes enter the room from his private study, which he kept dimly lit.  He was a strikingly handsome man in his very early twenties   He stood nearly the same height as Clark, and had a similar body build that was muscular and well toned.  To those who would not take notice of the very different facial features, the two men could pass off as brothers but he had a fuller adult look.  The new man appeared healthy but pail.  A trait that Chloe determined must run in the wealthy set since Lex was pail also, but this man did have a little more color.

   He nodded at them and gave a half smile.  "Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne."

   A glint came to Chloe's eye.  'Yes you are,' she thought smugly.

   "Mr. Wayne," Clark held out his hand.  "My name is Clark Kent and these are my friends Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang," he pointed to each respectively.

   "Welcome to my home," he shook each of their hands.

   Clark could not help but notice that Bruce was walking with a slight limp as if he had recently hurt his leg.  He wondered if his encounter with the man in the front yard had actually been a tussle with the lord of the manor himself.

   "Alfred informs me that you came here looking for me," Bruce sat on the first sofa and gestured for them to be seated on the opposite one.  "What could I possibly do for you?"

   Clark sat between the two girls who let him do the talking.  "We are actually following a hunch that may lead to solving a murder."

   "Murder?" Bruce repeated.  "Is that a new high school pass time to solve murders?"

   "The victim was a very close friend," Clark explained.  "Perhaps you have heard of Lex Luthor from Luthor Corps?"

   Bruce nodded his head.  "Lex and I have crossed social paths in the pass.  I read that he was in a serious car accident in the news paper a while back, but the article gave no indication that it was murder."

   "That's because we believe it is being covered up," Clark said with a frustrated sigh.

   Bruce gave no indication of his emotions and gave another slight nod as his only indication of receiving the message.

   "There seems to be this whole cover story about his being drunk when he left my house a few minutes before the crash, and I know for a fact that he did not have anything to drink.  We also found out a few days ago that his car had been tampered with."

   "How so?" Bruce's monotone voice asked.

   Clark turned to each of the girls first wondering how much of his own hand he should show this early in the game.  He took a deep breath and then answered.  "Perhaps, much in the way that your car was tampered with, Mr. Wayne."

   Bruce cocked and eyebrow.  It was his first indication of any real interest.  "I have never reported any accidents."

   "Not with the police," Chloe jumped in pulling a sheet of paper from her bag.  "But you did file a report with your insurance company and then covered the damage out of your own pocket."

   "Yes I did," Bruce took the page with the insurance report from her.  "I am a firm believer that a automobile should come with a complete history of any accidents should I decide to ever sell the car.  So I filed the report to allow it to be recorded into the database."

   "Do you mind if we ask you what happen with your car?" Lana asked with a polite smile.  "Was the accident suspicious in any way?"

   Bruce gave her his first real smile of the night.  He could not help be infatuated by her beauty; but then the serious look returned.  "I must say that three teenagers from Kansas showing up in the middle of the night with questions of my driving records is very suspicious to me, Miss Lang."

   "This is not some type of scam, if that's what you are thinking, Mr. Wayne," Clark assured him.  "My best friend was murdered by having his break lines cut, and his own father may be covering it up.  We are just trying to make a connection here in hopes of solving this case."

   Alfred walked back into the room holding a tray of refreshments he placed on the coffee table between the two couches.  He pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Bruce.

   Chloe spoke as he read the form.  "Mr. Wayne, have you ever heard of the 'Liberation Organization Of Third Third_World Religions'?  We believe that they may be responsible for Lex's accident and perhaps your own."

   Bruce gave her a suspicious look.

   "Did these people approach you for a donation shortly before your wreck?" She continued to pursue the issue.  

   "Where have you heard of these people, Miss Sullivan?" Bruce asked.

   "I recalled a few years back when they promised to terrorize American interest if we did not leave some of the more militant Muslim countries to their own devices, and they claimed they would use money from our most wealthy citizens to finance these attacks.  Then when I heard about one of the fathers of a dead teenager who died in a suspicious accident himself a while back say that he was approached by a militant group fitting this description for money shortly before the crash, well I put two and two together and came up with blackmail."

   Bruce cocked his eyebrow again.  "You seem very confident in your research miss Sullivan.  Do you have anything to back up your theory?"

   "No," she lowered her head.  "Right now we are just following a hunch, but I think you may hold a prime key to this puzzle, Mr. Wayne."

   Bruce took his coffee cup stood up and slowly walked over to the fireplace.  He seemed to be deep in thought as they watched him glance at the sheet of paper Alfred had given him moments earlier.

   Alfred busied himself preparing each of them a beverage of choice.  Only Clark declined.  He too rose to his feet and walked over towards Bruce.

   "Please Mr. Wayne," he pleaded with large eyes.  "You may be our only hope of ever finding out what truly happen to Lex."

   Bruce took a sip and looked at Clark.  "Tell me, Mr. Kent, how do you intend to protect these two young ladies if you do discover a murderer as you claim."

   A puzzled look came to Clark's face.  "I haven't really thought that far ahead.  But I assure you that no harm will come to any of my friends."

   "I would say that harm has already come to your friends and family as well," Bruce said with a stern scowl.  He held up the page in his hand and continued.  "It seems your parents have been arrested for the wrongful death of Alexander Luthor and you three are wanted for questioning by the Smallville and Metropolis police departments."

   "You researched us?" Clark took the page.

   "I am a very wealthy man, Mr. Kent.  And as you pointed out, I may have enemies I am not aware of," He told him.  "So when I invite someone into my home, I make it a point to know as much as humanly possible about them."

   Clark hung his head again.  "So you don't believe our murder theory?"

   "I did not say that," Bruce returned sipping his coffee.  "I do however have a few questions."

   "Like what?" Chloe asked from the sofa.

   Bruce turned his attention towards her.  "I would like to know why you think Lionel Luthor would be covering the murder of his son?  The Luthors have never struck me as the type of men who would back down from threats."

   "Maybe he's hiding it for the same reason you hid your accident," Chloe stood up.  "I would assume that being a victim to these types of terrorist would be as bad, if not worst, than backing down."

   Bruce remained silent and seemed to be studying her for a few minutes.  He sipped on his mug and his brow became creased in thought.

   "Please, Mr. Wayne," Clark finally broke the silence.  "All we want is to solve a murder and bring the culprits to justice.  I'm sure you want the same thing for the people who may have attacked you."

   Bruce placed his empty cup on the mantel of the fireplace and turned to Clark.  "You must be completely honest with me and share all your information."

   "Of course," Clark had to control a smile of relief.  "But all we have is speculation right now."

   "And pictures," Chloe added in.  "We can't prove that it's Lex's car, but we have pictures of the cut brake lines."  She pulled out the camera from her shoulder bag and brought up the pictures on the view screen.

   Bruce took the camera from her and looked at the snap shots.

   "These people, who ever they are, were very brazing and made no efforts to hide their crime," Clark said from over his shoulder.

   "Why would they," Bruce sighed.  "They knew that Lionel would hide it for them.  You were right about the wealthy not wanting to appear as victims.  The only question is why would Lionel deliberately interfere in a federal matter?"

   "I don't follow," Chloe spoke up.

   Bruce handed her back the camera.  "The FBI also got wind of my accident and were able to piece a crime together, only they have no real leads to finding the culprits.  It seems they are very clear on the group behind it, but have yet been able to uncover the people who control the group.  If they approached me, then I am sure that they approached Lionel as well."

   "Then are you admitting you were attacked?" Clark reasoned.

   Bruce seemed to stop before he was about to say anymore.  He walked between the two sofas back towards the doors to his private study.  "It's late Mr. Kent," he spoke as he walked.  "There is much I much review about what you have told me.  I first need to decide if you are indeed telling me the truth."

   "We are," Clark insisted as Bruce got to the doors.

   Bruce Wayne turned to them.  "Since you are on the run from the law, I will assume that you would like to lay low.  You are all welcome to spend the night in my guest rooms.  Alfred will show you the way, and you can leave in the morning."

   Chloe and Lana gave Clark a hopeless look as Bruce disappeared into his room.  "What just happened?" Chloe asked.  "I thought we were getting through to him."

   "You must forgive the young master," Alfred said from the corner he had stationed himself during the conversation.  "Master Bruce does not trust easily, and perhaps all the talk of murder only brought up hurtful memories."

   "We're sorry," Clark said.  "We didn't mean any harm."

   "Of course not," Alfred smiled slightly.  "Now allow me to show you to your quarters for the night, and perhaps the master shall be more talkative in the morning."

   The dark room was as black at night as it had been in the afternoon before.  The shadow moved across the room and injected the needle into the small tube as it had done three times a day for the last several weeks.  This time the occupants made no sound or gave any indication of consciousness.

   After the task was finished, the shadow moved back towards the door and exited as every other time before.  The darkness engulfed the room again, but the faint rustling of cloth against cloth could be heard.  Then a soft grunt as one swift motion was made and the hint of tape being removed from flesh was heard.

   The sound of a limb slumping back onto the bed was heard with a heavy sigh.  The frail voice mumbled.  "Where are you, Clark?"

   More rustling was heard and then complete silence over the slight breathing of a sleeping soul.

TO BE CONTINUED

***NOTES***

Okay, thanks again for all the kind words.  I am so happy that you all seem to be in this for the long haul.  It helps to keep me motivated.  I only hope the outcome is worthy of all your support and kind words.

To Suz:  Welcome aboard.  Half the fun of writing a mystery is to know when to leave them hanging, so please stay with this story, and the answers and more clues as well as a few twist and turns are on the way.

To MitchPell: Thanks for still reading.  I want so much to answer your questions, but we all know that the answers would only spoil the fun, so please keep reading.  This might also be a slow chapter as I am trying to set up the new players, so please bear with me.

To Merrie:  Thanks again.  If it helps, I try to post every Monday morning.  I'm actually a few chapters ahead, but I need to let poor Christin have a life in between her bata reading for me, but once I have my final chapters done and she has finished proofing, I'll try getting them posted closer together.

To Teri:  Thanks.  I have a hard time seeing Lex as a bad guy sometimes, because as I was going over the facts for the last chapter and reviewing past episodes, he is really allot nicer at times than some of the other people are to Clark.  Even his so called closes friends.

To Jellybeany: Welcome aboard and I hope you are enjoying the story so far.

ToTimberLover360:  How could I not be touched by a plea like that.  I plan on seeing this story to the end.  So please stay with it.

Thanks to all who have been reading, and please continue with the reviews.  Mondays are not so bad when you have a good review. =)

Phaze


	12. Chapter Twelve

A Death in the Family: Chapter Twelve

   The sounds around the jail cell had become second nature for Jonathan Kent as he laid in the dark of his small six-by-eight cubical. The rock hard bunk bed that was covered by a thin lumpy mattress and accompanied by an equally thin pillow with a slight smell of weeks old vomit, and a wool coarse blanket was his only companion.  The room also had a makeshift table and stool and a metal toilet and sink combination unit.  The only thing he had become thankful for was that the other inmate, who was held on various assault violations, had been arraigned and moved to a state run facility to await trial while Jonathan and Martha, to his knowledge, had not so much as seen a courtroom yet.  The process was taking longer than he thought appropriate and his lawyer had promised to clear up the matter of their missing files as soon as possible.  For now, Jonathan was just happy to have his cell to himself and did not have to worry for his own safety while he was behind locked bars.  He attempted to drift off into a light slumber as he thought he heard the sounds of keys being turned in the metal casing of his bars.

   Jonathan sat up and squinted to adjust his eyesight to the dark hall.  The only light was coming from the bright moon outside his thin slit of a window.  The shuffle of shoes was heard as the bare door opened and a tall dark figure entered.  A flashlight shone in his eyes, and Jonathan covered his face from the glare.

   "Who is that?" He demanded.

   "Jonathan," a familiar voice greeted him.  The voice placed the flashlight on the table facing them as Lionel Luthor stepped into a clear view.  "You look as if you are doing well, old friend."

   "Lionel," Jonathan grunted, relaxing slightly.  "Since when are they allowing after-hours visits?"

   A clicking sound was heard and the lights in the hall and Jonathan's cell came on.  The bright annoyance in the night was cursed by several of the inmates in the cells around them, but this was not something Lionel concerned himself with.  

   "I am a very wealthy man, Jonathan," Lionel reminded him.  "I have ways of getting what I want."

   "Like locking me and my wife up on some bogus charges that you fabricated?" Jonathan said with gritted teeth.

   "I did not bring you up on any charges, my friend," Lionel returned running his finger across the table with a disgusted look.  "It was the Kansas State police that decided to arrest you, not I."

   "I'm sure the Luthor Corps bankroll had nothing to do with it, either," Jonathan sneered.  "What do you want here, Lionel?  It's late and I have a lot on my mind."

   "Yes, I'm sure you do," Lionel replied with a gruff tone.  "So I shall be brief.  I want you to call your son and have him end this unholy crusade he has embarked on."

   Jonathan looked at his foe with a puzzled stare.  "Why are you so interested in Clark's life all of a sudden?"

   "Your son is involved with a very serious and dangerous matter, Jonathan.  I would think you would want to put an end to this before someone was seriously hurt," Lionel stood over him.

   "Was that a thinly veiled threat?" Jonathan asked.

   Lionel sighed as if bored. "Believe if or not Jonathan, there are far more evil things in this world than myself."

   "As hard as I find that to believe, Clark is his own man, Lionel," Jonathan stood up.  "I would think that having a son like Lex would have help make that obvious to you.  All our children reach an age when we are no longer able to contain them."

   "Oh, but I know that Clark has always respected and looked up to you Jonathan," Lionel smiled with a shaking finger.  "Your son never had my son's rebellious side.  Clark would listen to you if you were to ask him to come home."

   Jonathan thought for a moment and got close up to Lionel's face.  "What is this really all about, Lionel?  How close has Clark gotten to your dark little secrets that you would actually make you plea for my help?"

   Lionel's face got stone serious.  "I once answered your plea for help, Jonathan.  I did as you asked and I never questioned you on your motives."

   Jonathan turned away with a disgusted look.  "I sold my soul to the devil once a long time ago, and several of my friends suffered for it."

   Lionel stood behind him and spoke over his shoulder.  "You helped talk some of your fellow farmers into trusting me, and they were all handsomely rewarded, as were you."

   Covering his mouth with his hands, Jonathan lowered his head.

   "Your wife wanted the child so badly from the moment she held him," Lionel continued.  "How could you possibly turn the little boy away?  You yourself had already fallen in love with the child, but there were questions of who he was and where he came from, but I never asked them, and I made the questions go away, Jonathan.  I gave you a son."

   Jonathan raised his head to the heavens as if in silent prayer.

   "I am asking you to help me keep your son out of trouble, and in turn I shall let you keep him," Lionel said with a voice slightly above a whisper.

   The rage was burning inside of Jonathan and it took all he had to fight his inner self and hold it down.  "I don't think that I can stop Clark now that he has his mind set on solving the mystery behind Lex's death.  He won't listen to me on this matter."

   "Make him listen," Lionel's voice growled.  "There is no mystery for your son to solve.  Lex died because he was driving drunk, and that is all anyone needs to know."

   Jonathan turned to face his jailer again.  "Why are you covering up your own son's death, Lionel?  What is so dangerous that if everyone knew it would harm either of you any more?  Lex is dead, the worst has happened, and still you are hiding something."

   "A religious man as yourself should understand the concept of 'an eye for an eye." Lionel stared with cold eyes into Jonathan's.  "Now I am making the same gesture for you.  I helped cover for your son, and now I demand you do the same for mine. When your son contacts you, as I am sure he will, you make sure that he puts and end to this circus.  Or everyone will know that Clark Kent has a mysterious past which could lead to all types of inquiries as to who the lost child in the corn field really was."

   "As long as we are making threats here, Lionel," Jonathan returned with an equally evil stare.  "Perhaps you should be worried about what will happen when the world discovers that this whole drunk driving charge was fabricated to hide some deep and dark family secret of your own."

   "Don't," Lionel's voice was loud and sharp as he spoke.  "Don't toy with me little man.  I will crush you like the roach that you are."

   Jonathan's manners turned towards surprise.  "Oh, dear Lord," he gasped.  "You really are scared out of your mind over this matter.  Someone has Lionel Luthor over the barrel for once, and I have the feeling that we Kents are just pawns in this sick little scenario."

   "Don't task me, Jonathan," Lionel warned one last time before turning back to the unlocked bars.  

   Jonathan approached the bars as Lionel locked them again.  "Just remember one thing, Luthor.  Your hands in Clark's adoption may not be so clean either.  This could come back and bite us all in the butt."

   Lionel chose not to respond, but simply walked away.

   When Lionel returned to the back seat of his limousine, a young male assistant, who held a cell phone to his ear, met him.  The young, blond man ended his conversation when Lionel slid in next to him.

   "We have some good news, Mr. Luthor," The assistant spoke.  "A young man and two girls fitting the description of the Kent boy and his friends were seen at a connivance store just outside of Bludhaven, earlier today.  The eyewitness believed he saw them driving in the direction of Gotham City.

   Lionel gave him an evil smirk.  "Very good, Walters.  Give the order to find young mister Kent and his flunkies and use whatever means necessary to stop them from prying any further into this matter."

   "Yes, sir," The handsome man nodded and picked up the phone again.

    The hall was cool and dank as Lana made her way back down to the first floor of Wayne Manor.  She found that she could not easily fall asleep, so she decided that perhaps a short trip to the kitchen for some warm milk would ease her mind into a slumber.  She was not sure where the kitchen was actually located, but was rather sure that, as in most houses, it would be somewhere on the first floor, towards the back of the structure.

   She made her way down the large corridor that the group had been in earlier which held the sitting room and Bruce's study.  She pulled her robe tightly around herself over her modest pajamas as she passed the slightly ajar door to the study.  It had been late when they arrived, and now it was even later, but she could see the back of Bruce's head sitting by the fire with a glass of red wine in his hand, still wide awake.

   Her fear of the mysterious man told her to just walk past and not disturb him, but her usual kind nature got the best of her as she noticed he was staring at the large painted portrait of his parents over the fireplace mantle.  She approached the door and knocked lightly as she entered the room.

   "Mr. Wayne, it's Lana.  May I come in?" She announced herself softly.

   Bruce looked at her for a moment, but did not say a word.  He took a sip of his drink and returned his stare towards the picture.

   "That's a beautiful picture," she commented from a few feet away.  "I wish my parents had one commissioned like that before they died."

   "Is there something I could do for you, Miss Lang?" He asked rather curtly, ignoring her compliments.

   "I was looking for the kitchen and couldn't help but notice you were still awake," she said as she approached his chair.  "I didn't think it would be proper to just walk by and not see if you were all right.  I guess we are both night owls tonight."

   "I don't sleep very well at night anymore," he told her using his same short manners.  "A psychologist once told me that it was because I watched my parents being killed at night.  She said I have built up an unhealthy fear of the dark."

   "Well, considering you are sitting here alone in the dark in this big empty house," Lana smiled.  "I would say the dark is not your greatest fear."

   "Some might say that I fear the night," Bruce added.

   "And what do you say?" Lana asked, taking a seat on the armchair to his left.

   He looked at her with haunting eyes.  "I say that I am terrorized by my dreams.  I continue to have dreams of my parents deaths, and I think of how many other people may be going through the same brutal attacks each moment as I lay there in my safe, warm bed."

   Lana gave him a polite little smile over her fear for his mental well being.  "That sounds a little obsessive.  Don't you think?"

   "My doctors say it is because of the guilt I felt in not being able to help my parents as they were being murdered before my eyes," Bruce spoke staring at the flames.  "They claim that there is a side of me that is agonizing to get out and atone for their loss."

   "Wow, that's deep," Lana raised her eyebrows.  "Sounds all kinda 'dark knight' to me.  Perhaps you have some type of hero complex that makes you want to correct the wrongs of this world."

   Bruce looked deeply into her eyes.  "I must apologize, Miss Lang.  I do not even know you, yet here I am telling you my deepest psychosis three minutes after you walk into the room."  He leaned in and touched her hand.  "Forgive me if I sound forward, but I feel that there is a bond between us, and that I can somehow trust you."

   "Maybe there is a bond," she blushed slightly at the touch of his hand on hers.  "Mr. Wayne, I watched my parents being killed before my eyes in a horrible way like you did.  It actually happened the same year.  I was only three and you were nine."

   "Lana Lang?" Bruce thought out loud.  "Yes, I remember now.  We were both featured in an article in Time magazine that year.  It was a follow up story to their 'Terror in The Heartland' story, and I believe you were on the cover."

   "And my friends told me I have a good memory," Lana smiled.  "I also remember your piece in that article.  I then kept up with your story in various other clippings over the years.  I'm afraid that there were not a whole lot of them, but unlike an unknown poor girl from Smallville, a rich boy from Gotham City made for better reading and they kept up with you."

   "Yes, it was years before the tabloids stopped hounding until recently when I began dating," Bruce told her.  "It seems that my numerous encounters with the opposite gender has sparked the media's attention again, and they have dubbed me 'Gotham City's most notorious ladies man.'"

   "And yet, here you sit alone before a roaring fire," Lana reminded him.

   He took a sip of his drink and turned to her.  "I am not alone any longer, am I, Lana?"

   Lana blushed at his apparent interest.  "I guess not," she hesitated for a second and then added, "Bruce."

   Bruce peeked at the fire and then turned back to her.  "Lana, would you and your friends be my guests tomorrow night for dinner and a night out on the town?"

   "I'm sure we would love it," Lana smiled again.  "Things have been so hectic for us the last few days, I'm sure a night out would be a great release."

   "Very good," he patted her hand.  "Then we can consider it a date."

   Again Lana blushed, and this time she had to turn away to conceal her excitement.

   The Library at the opposite end of the building was larger than any private collection that Chloe Sullivan had ever seen.  The room was well over fifty feet in every angle and each wall was lined with shelf after shelf of books that reached up the entire ceiling. A catwalk lined the walls about ten feet up.  She marveled at the thirst for knowledge the Wayne family must have acquired over the years.  It would not come as a surprise to her if each of these books were real first print addition.

   She entered the dimly lit room with her flashlight and began to browse the walls of books.  She made her way over several of the shelves before she realized that a large portion of these books were 'real crimes' related.  Bruce had collected many entire collections of law books and several police journals, among other various crime related reading materials.  There were also books on physical devolvement and care, along with several intense readings on martial arts and eastern philosophies and healing techniques.  Along with the several classics, which were kept in the upper level of the room, she found several books and files on the criminal minds as well as personal stories from confessed criminals of all types.  It was apparent to Chloe that this Bruce Wayne person was obsessed with the criminal mind and law enforcement along with physical well being and enhancement.

   After several minutes Chloe made her way to the center of the room where a complete computer set up was placed on a desk for further research.  She sat on the chair and pressed a few buttons and keys that brought the machine to life.

   "And here we have the mother load," Chloe smiled in the glow of the monitor's light.  "All I need now is the secret password."

   She tried several attempts before she sighed in defeat.  "Come on Chloe, you met this guy for a whole five minutes just today.  His life should be an open book to you now.  The pass word should be a cinch."

   She had tried several words as the hour pressed on, but to no avail.  Then a rapping on the large floor-to-ceiling window behind her started her.  Chloe looked up and saw a bat had somehow mistaken the closed window as an open one, and slammed itself against the plate glass.

   After her heart had returned to a normal beat again, Chloe sighed and turned back to the computer.  She stared at the uncooperative screen and took a deep breath.  She was about to try another failed attempt when a thought crossed her mind.  She peeked back as the window and then the monitor again.

   Chloe raised her hand over the keyboard and typed in three simple letters: 'B', 'A', and 'T'.  With this word set in place, she tapped the enter button, and the screen lit up with a loud noise announcing that she had successfully made it past the security wall and was into the computers mainframe.

   Chloe smiled at her own accomplishment and then returned her interest to the matter at hand.  "Now, Mr. Wayne, let's see how much you really know about our friends in the terror cells."  She did not speak again and engrossed herself in the matter at had.  Chloe worked well into the morning hours digging up all she could about Lex and Bruce's attacker.

   Alfred Pennyworth was still fully dressed at the late hour when he passed the room where Clark Kent was staying.  He could see that the light was still on in the room from under the door, so he took the chance and knocked softly on the barrier.

   Clark looked up from the note pad he had on his lap and answered.  "Come in."

   Alfred opened the door and stuck his head into the room.  "I trust everything is well with you master Kent?  Is your evening attire acceptable?"

   "Perfect. Who would turn down silk?" Clark smiled from under the blankets in his new silk pajamas that he had been given to wear.  He looked lost in the king-size bed with the four enormous bedposts.  The room was large and furnished with several antique pieces of furniture including two dresser draws, a full size dressing mirror and a small sofa at the foot of the bed with two nightstands on either side.  There was also a large fireplace with two large armchairs and a coffee table before it.  The entire room had an elegance that Clark seldom saw in Smallville, and it was rather overwhelming.

   "This room is bigger than our livestock barn," he joked with the older man.  "Are all the rooms this big?"

   Alfred slipped into the room and began to fold up the comforter that Clark had placed on the sofa near his feet.  "This is actually the largest sleeping chamber in the house," Alfred told him as he worked.  "To most, it would be considered the master bedroom."

   "Really," Clark was surprised.  "Then why doesn't Mr. Wayne sleep in here?"

   Alfred stopped for a moment as if lost and thought.  "There was a time when here was the only place young master Bruce would sleep. The young master slumbered here many nights as a youth.  He would climb be between his parents often as they slept, but master James Wayne would not hear of his son sleeping here between he and the madam.  He would tell young Bruce that he needed to be a man and sleep in his own room, so Bruce would wait until he thought his father was asleep, and then he would sneak in and cuddle for the night and then sneak out at first light."

   Clark smiled as he thought about a young Bruce.  "Did his father ever catch him?"

   Alfred finished the folding and allowed a smile to cross his thin lips.  "I assure you that Master James had learned to be a very light sleeper in his years of being a doctor intern, so I suspect that he was fully aware when Master Bruce would enter the bed, but he allowed the young boy his little secret and feign sleep until he was ready to return to his own quarters."

   "Mister Wayne senior sounds a lot like my dad," Clark smiled again.  "So is that why Bruce can't sleep in this room?"

   "I suspect so," Alfred's face grew glum.  "Master Bruce keeps very much to himself, but I remember for several months after his parent's deaths, he would come here alone and sleep in this very bed.  He would bunch up the blankets and comforters into two separate piles on either side, as if they were to cover two persons, and then he would snuggle between them and drift off into a tearful slumber.  Then one morning, about three months after the deaths, he simply left the room and never returned."

   Clark looked at his pad as if studying the yellow pages.  "Bruce has a lot of pain built up inside, doesn't he?"

   "I'm afraid the young sir has known little pleasure in his life," Alfred confirmed.

   "Sounds a lot like Lex," Clark added.  "I mean, he still had his father, but I think his real parents died when his mother died.  From what I can tell, Lionel was not very good at showing his affections towards his son."

   "Mr. Luthor may not have had much of a family life, but it would appear that he made very healthy choices in choosing his friends," Alfred assured him.  "There are not a lot of people who would risk their very well being to search out a murder that, to all known conclusions, never happened."

   Clark looked away uneasily.

   "I apologize," Alfred grew alarmed.  "Have I said something to upset you?"

   "No, not really," Clark tied to convinced him with a hurt look on his face.  "It's just, I can get so mixed up in this whole mystery that I sometimes forget how much I actually miss him"

   Alfred walked around to the side of the bed and sat on the edge next to Clark.  "We must all learn to deal with our grief in our own way, Master Kent.  I can assure you that Mister Luthor is well aware of your feelings."

   "I hope so," Clark's sad eyes looked up.  He wanted to say more to this man whom he felt that he could trust, but he dare not tell of his suspicions that Lex may, in fact, not be dead, but in the hands of those who may still want to hurt him.  He wanted to talk to someone who could reason these things through with him and not just try to comfort his anguished thoughts. Unfortunately, he was still not sure if he could trust these people, so he would have to wait.

   "Is there anything I could get for you before I retire for the evening?" Alfred asked, standing up again.

   "No," Clark forced a smile.  "I just want to finish this letter to my folks that I can't mail, and then I'm going to get some sleep myself."

   "Very well," Alfred nodded and opened the door.  "Do sleep well, young sir."

   "Thank you, and you too," Clark returned.

   Alfred stopped before he left.  He turned to Clark with a concerned look.  "If I might say so, Master Kent.  I think your being here is a very good thing for Master Bruce.  I am afraid that he has not had very many interactions with other young people since his parents passing.  I believe your being here could be a very good thing for him."  Alfred gave another of his thin smiles. "I do hope you shall not be in such a rush to leave once your adventure is over."

   Clark could see the parental concern from the hired servant for the young man in his care.  He knew that Alfred loved Bruce as his own son, and it warmed him to think that even someone as sullen and alone as Bruce still had someone who cared.  "I'll try not to hurry off, Mr. Pennyworth."

   Alfred nodded his head again and closed the door as he left the room.

   The very early morning sun had started coming up through the window in the dark room.  It had been days, or perhaps weeks, since the rays had touched the face of the only room's occupant.  A rustling sound could be heard in the darkness as if human flesh were moving against cloth materials.  A few muffled grunts were also uttered into the blackness, as the moving became more apparent.

   A shuddering sound was heard as two feet hit the cold, hard ground.  It had been a long time since the two feet had felt anything solid underneath them, and the matter was made worse by one foot being covered by a hard non-giving material.  The cold and shear pain of the movement after days of total stillness was almost unbearable, but the only relief for the pain was in the tube removed from the arm several hours earlier.  

   With a swift movement aided only by one available free hand, a body was swung around and sat up with a dizzy start.  The body was frail and weak, but still the mind pushed it forward to its final objective.

   The few steps across the dark room were torturous and time consuming, but done in the fastest possible time available to the delicate body.  A slightly quicker shuffle was heard across the lanolin floor.  Then a hand felt a wall and thick curtains across what must have been the windows.  The window was set into the wall with about a foot of wall between the inner wall and the glass frame.  The hand searched around and, after what seemed an agonizing amount of time, touched what it was trying to find.

   The strain of the short walk and pressure to make it out of bed had been too much, and the frail form fell to the floor with a clacking sound.  A loud grunt was heard as the pain of the fall covered over the pain already present.  

   The body waited several seconds to listen for any approaching footsteps, but there were none.  After a few more minutes, the soul was sure that it had not been heard and decided it was safe to move again.  The tender hand reached up from the cool floor to the windowsill again, and again found the hard solid object that it was seeking.

   Picking up the object was a task in this weak condition, but there was no turning back now.  The object was fairly small, about a foot at its longest dimension, but moving it was difficult at the time.  The lifting became more of a drag after the first second and it brushed against the thick black curtains, allowing just a sliver of morning light to shine in.  The glow lit up the wooden object and its shape became clear.  The item was a crude carving of a wooden horse.

   The pale hand with the carving fell to the floor as the blind returned to it's closed position, again removing all light from the room.  The light was unimportant at this time for the soul.  The hand held tightly to the wooden horse, pulling it in closer to its chest.  The silence again returned as the person holding the object drifted off to sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED:

***NOTES***

Thank you 'all' again for the great comments and reviews.  I am trying very hard to keep the story enjoyable, fresh and entertaining, so it's nice to know you guys are enjoying it.

The biggest change is that I finally figured out how to save my chapters in html format, so I went through and reloaded all the chapters, and I think they should be easier to read.  Thanks to all the people who tried to help me with this problem.  I actually discovered how to do it when playing with my computer at work, which has windows xp, and I saw the format as part of my saves.  So even with all the explanations, it took a fluke for me to solve the problem.  So I am living proof that even an idiot can learn something new.

To Marrie: Thanks again, and welcome to Monday.

To MithPell: You might be on to something. Then again.  In any case, thanks for reading and your continued support.

To whom ever didn't leave a name: Thank you for your kind words, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy.

To Robyn:  I think Bruce is and would be a very complex man at this age, and I'm trying to write him as that.  He wants to reach out as a man, but we all know that somewhere in his mind the recluse of the Bat calls.  Thank you for always reading and letting me know what you think.  You Marrie Teri, and MitchPell have been great through all of this.  I am honestly aiming to please.  Oh, and shout out.

To Teri: Thanks again for your comments. I think things between Clark and Bruce will get very complicated as time goes on.

Well that rounds things out for this chapter, and I want you all to know that I wrote this chapter a few weeks ago, and I'm very interested to see how my take on Clark's adoption and Lionel's involvement with it will pan out on tomorrows episode Lineage.  From all indications of the commercials, I may have hit on something.  Yet in all farness, I also remember reading a similar idea in at least one other story here at FF.net very early in the show's history which dealt with Lionel's involvement in the adoption, so I may have been influence by that said story.  In any case, it should be interesting.

Until next time.

Phaze


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A Death in the Family: Chapter 13 

   The sun rose over Metropolis with the rays of a bright new day filling the city with promise and new hope for the journey that lay ahead.  The buildings were shimmering in the glow of the early morning sun as Nell Potter made her way to the Luthor Corps tower from her parked car.   It was a journey that she had made many times before.  The warm summer air tossed her long dark hair as if it were a train while she walked.  She wore a smart summer dress with a pastel flower pattern, which was draped, just below her knees.  The sleeves were short and she carried a straw handbag with a large, matching hat and tan open toed shoes with moderately high heels.

   Nell made her way into the building and up to the executive floor as if she owned the place.  In fact at one point in her life, she thought that her close friendship with Lionel Luthor might put her in that position, but the dreams of grandeur were not to be.  Over the years she had grown tired of waiting around for her perceived 'beau' to come around, and her mind moved on to other fancies to occupy her time.  The two never became lovers, but Nell had been proud of the fact that they had remained friends, if even at a distance.

   "Good morning, Ms. Potter," the woman behind the desk in the LC lobby created her.

   "Good morning, Maggie," Nell returned with a bright smile.  "What do they have you doing here at such an early hour?"

   "Well, Mr. Luthor called me last night and informed me that he would be having a breakfast meeting with you today, and he asked that I have everything prepared for when you arrived," she explained.  "Since our regular receptionist is not in yet, I thought I would wait out here for you." 

   "That is so nice of you," Nell continued with the polite conversation.  "Is he in yet?"

   "I'm afraid not," Maggie frowned.  "There was a wreck on route seventy-one this morning and he's tied up in traffic.  He asked me to have you wait for him."

   "Of course," Nell grinned.  She was the one who called Lionel the night before demanding this meeting, so she was not going anywhere.  She even wondered if Lionel had not planned the car crash on the highway just to make her wait for him.

   "Could I get you some coffee while you wait?" Maggie asked.

   "Actually, I was hoping to get a start on some of those imported Danishes that I know Lionel loves. I am sure he has some waiting for us on the breakfast table," Nell told her.  "Would it be possible to just let me in his office so I may wait for him there?"

   "Oh, Ms. Potter," She frowned again.  "I don't think Mr. Luthor would like that.  He doesn't allow anyone in his office without prior approval."

   "Come now, Maggie," Nell gushed.  "We have known each other for years, and I have known Lionel for even longer.  I am sure that the company rules do not apply to me.  I mean even if he is hiding some company secrets back there, how would I be able use the plans of a big company like this for my little coffee shop in Smallville?"

   Maggie eyed her for a moment.  "I don't know."

   "Please, Maggie," Nell tried again.  "Have a heart.  I drove all the way in from Smallville before the sun was even up and I haven't eaten yet.  I'm famished."

   "Oh all right," Maggie stood up and grabbed a ring of keys.  "I'm sure Mr. Luthor wouldn't want me to let you starve to death."

   "Thank you, dear," Nell smiled at her own victory.  "You are a life saver."

   Maggie tilted her head in a comic gesture as they both made their way past the security doors into the office area.

   When Nell and Maggie arrived in Lionel's office, they found that a small table had been set up in front of the large, wall sized window with a great view over the city.  There was another table setup with a catered breakfast with more food on it than any two people would be able to eat in a week.

   Nell walked over and admired the spread.  "This was so sweet of him to plan this."

   "You would be amazed at how easy it is to put something like this together at a moments notice when all you have to do is wake your personal assistant up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night," Maggie half joked.

   "Oh, then you did a wonderful job," Nell smiled picking off a piece of the Danish in her hand.  "Would you like to join me until Lionel gets here?"

   "I'm afraid I can't," Maggie explained turning back towards the door.  "I need to prepare for the rest of Mr. Luthor's morning appointments.  Please help yourself, and he should be here momentarily."

   "Thank you again, Maggie," Nell called out as she left.

   Nell turned back to the table and lifted the lids on the two large, hot, serving trays.  One held three different styles of eggs ready for the choosing while the other was stuffed with bacon, Canadian bacon, hash browns, and slices of fried ham steaks.  "Good Lord, Lionel," She thought out loud.  "With all this animal fat you eat it's a wonder your heart is not one massive, blocked artery."

   She put the lids back and twisted around to face his desk.  "But food is not my real reason for being here," she whispered to herself.  "That reporter who called last night wants to know why you are hunting my niece, Lionel, and so do I."

   Making her way over to the desk, she started opening draws and searching through his private papers for any clues to the big mystery that the elder Luthor was hiding that would make him start a manhunt for Lana and Clark.  She had always known that he had his dark side, but his secrets had never threatened her family before.  If that Perry White person on the phone was right, then Lionel's secrets would put them all in harms way.  The kids were already on the run from him, and the Kents were behind bars.  Nell knew that they would never have supplied Lex with enough alcohol to kill himself and she knew that these were some of the underhanded tricks that Lionel had been capable of pulling in the past.  She had knowledge of the man that too few in Smallville had ever known, and until this day, she had always been willing to put her suspicions and fears aside and remain his friend.  Today, however, she would cross the line and search for the real Luthor behind his public image.

   After a few minutes, she found her search was fruitless, as she had been unable to crack into his computer.  She had decided that her search was hopeless when she sat in his chair and turned slightly to her left.  There she saw it:  the door leading to Lionel's private living quarters where he spent his nights when he was unable to leave the city for various reasons.  The light of hope grew in her eyes again.

   She herself had never been invited into his inner sanctum, but she knew if he was going to hide some deep, dark secret, it would be in his most private of private spaces.  Nell slowly made her way towards the door and reached for the knob.

   Her hands were shaking.  She wondered if she should be attempting such a thing when she knew Lionel could walk in on her at any moment, but she knew she had come all this way for a reason, and there was no turning back for her now.  Whatever Lionel was hiding, Lana's very life may hang in the balance, so she had to go forth and uncover his deceptions.

   Much to her surprise and relief, the doorknob turned as she moved it in a clockwise rotation.  Slowly, the door gave way, and she began to push it forward.  The rim of her hat hit the frame of the door as she eased her head in slowly, giving her a slight start.  Once the door was opened and she stepped into the lavishly furnished living area of the private quarters, she removed her headpiece and dropped it on the sofa.

   The room was large and decorated in the same heavy grays as the office was.  On the right side was a small kitchen area that Nell was very sure he seldom used, if ever.  The window's vertical blinds were drawn shut over the same large, wall sized view as in the other room.  The darkness as the morning light attempted to peak through the slits in the fabric gave the room a mysterious glow.  At the far end, past the seating and dining areas, were two doors.  One was near the center of the wall where she was sure another room was placed behind it, and the other one was closer to the corner near the kitchenette.  This would most likely be the private rest room.

   Nell slowly made her way across the darken room towards the larger quarters.  She was unsure of what Lionel was hiding, but somehow she felt that getting closer to the closed areas of his life would turn up some clues.  Even if she herself could not decipher the clues, she was sure that Perry White would.  The only trick now was bringing him the right information.

   Her nerves were standing on end, as each step became more agonizing than the last.  The room was so close, yet so far away.  She wanted to rush, but was afraid of what types of security measures Lionel would have set up here in his most private of inner sanctums.  Nell did not want to set off any alarms, silent or other wise.  So she continued her trek slowly.

   She was about two feet from the door and her hand was reaching for knob when she heard a loud thud sound from the inner chamber as if something hard and solid had hit the floor.  Nell jumped in her own skin.  'Something' or 'Someone' was in that room.

   The silence around her was staggering for the next few minutes as she waited to hear another sound, but none could be heard.  So slowly, she decided to advance towards the door, again.

   The knob seemed cold and hard beneath her hand.  She knew it was her nerves playing tricks on her, but surely the room behind this door was going to be much scarier and dangerous.  Every fiber in her body was telling her to back away, but Nell had come too far now.  She knew that Lionel Luthor was hiding something from her and the rest of the world, and she could feel it down to her core that the secret would be revealed behind this door.

   Her left hand on the knob was shaking as she began turning it.  She used her right hand to help steady her left, but by this time her whole body was shaking.  She had to discover what ever it was behind this barrier.

   Deciding to act quickly as not to loose her nerve, Nell Potter released the handle as she pushed the door open to reveal the inner sanctum.  The new room was much darker than the first, and the only light was from the dim glow of the living quarters streaming into it. 

   Nell attempted to adjust her eyes to the darker quarters, and for a brief second she saw something.  "Oh, my God," she gasped taking one step forward to get a better view.  "Dear God, no," she gasped again as a hand grabbed her shoulder pulling her back into the living area.

   Nell screamed with all her might as she was pushed up against the wall and a hand rose to clasp over her mouth.  She looked up with terrified eyes to see who was holding her helpless.  To her further shock, her new captive was none other than Lionel Luthor himself.

   Tears of fear rolled down her cheek as she realized that Lionel knew what she had done and knew what she had seen.  He smiled with an evil grin at her.  "Nell," he spoke in low, harsh tones.  "I treat you like a guest in my home away from home, and this is how you repay me?"

   Nell moaned through his grip over her lips.

   "I shall remove my hand, and I hope you have a good explanation for this intrusion into my private affairs."

   She nodded her head as the tears flowed freely.  Lionel pulled his hand back cautiously and allowed her to speak.  "I'm sorry, Lionel," she gasped for fresh air.  "I was just waiting for you to show up for our meeting, and I thought I would have a look around."

   Lionel released her and took a few steps back.  She relaxed her stance and rubbed her neck where he had her pinned to the wall with his forearm.

   "Most interesting," he commented.  "What I want to know is: who sent you here to spy on me?"

   Nell was surprised by his question.  "No one," she insisted.  "I came here to see if you could help get the police off my nieces trail and maybe get the Kents out of jail," she lied.

   "Since when have you been interested in the Kents? And why would you think I would have any influence over the police?" Lionel questioned her.

   "I don't know," Nell made her way over to the sofa in the center of the room.  "I'm desperate for help, and I want to get Lana home where she belongs."

   Lionel watched her for a moment.  "Very moving speech, Nell.  I would be very much inclined to believe you if it were not for the telephone call that you received from the Daily Planet newspaper offices only moments before you contacted me and asked for this meeting last night," Lionel called her bluff.  

   Nell turned towards him with a startled look on her face as she leaned on the sofa's back.

   "Yes, Nell," he continued as he approached her.  "I am onto you and your little reporter friend.  What did he tell you?  Did he tell you I am behind the Kent's arrest, or that I am the reason the police are looking for Lana and her friends?  Perhaps he was so incline to inform you that I was the last person to see Jimmy Haifa alive, so therefore I must be responsible for his disappearance too."

   "Don't you dare mock me, Lionel," she turned with an angry stare.  "You have no right to question me with that dirty, little, secret of yours in there," She pointed to the room.  "Do you know how many people will suffer for this?  How many have already suffered?"

   Lionel gave her an evil grin.  "You are the dramatic one, Nell.  What goes on behind my private doors is my business.  My life is my own, and so are my secrets."

   "You have to tell someone," She warned as she pulled up all the resolve within herself.  "You can't keep this hidden for long.  Someone will find out."

   He pulled her upper arm towards himself sharply.  "And who will tell them, Nell?"

   She began to shake again looking up at his steel cold eyes.  She knew that she had dived into the deep side way over her head.  All that mattered now was what he would do to her.

   Maggie Butterfold was sitting at her own desk outside of Lionel Luthor's office when her buzzer rang for the intercom.  She picked up the receiver.  "Yes, Mr. Luthor."

   "Maggie," he spoke in a pleasant voice.  "Would you call the company nurse and have her come up to my office at once.  It seems that Ms. Potter has tripped on something in my office and knocked herself out."

   "Yes, of course, sir."  Maggie replied with concern.  "Should I call 911?"

   "No need," he answered.  "Once the nurse has stabilized her, I shall have her transported to the hospital in my private limo."

   "Yes, sir.  I will make the arrangements right away," she said.

   "Thank you, Maggie," He returned.  "Oh, and one more thing.  Once you have handled these matters, clean out your desk.  Security will be up in three minutes to escort you out of the building."

   "Sir?" She swallowed hard.

   "It's quite simple, Margaret," his tone turned harsh.  "You're fired.  Good day."  He then hung up the phone leaving a very startled Maggie to wonder what had just happened.

    The sun came up over Gotham City as well that day.  It was the first time Clark had seen signs of the yellow object above them since he arrived there the day before.  After he stepped out of the shower, he put on a fresh, royal blue t-shirt and pair of well-worn jeans over his Fruit of the Loom underpants.  He enjoyed the comfort of the clothes Alfred had given him the night before, but he also enjoyed being back in his own outfit.   He placed his dried work boots over his thick white sport socks and stepped out into the hall of Wayne Manor ready to face a new day.  Much to his surprise, Alfred was nowhere to be found, but a distinct smell of eggs and bacon was coming up from the lower level of the house.  It was there that he knew he would start his morning.

   Walking down the steps and up the hall to where he was sure the smell was coming from; Clark passed the opened door of Bruce Wayne's private study.  He could see that the darkened flickering of the smoldering embers in the fireplace were making a dull glow in the dimly lit room.  As Clark got closer, he could see a set of feet on the sofa with pink fuzzy slippers that he had seen Lana wearing from his telescopic view of her house many times. The sight was rather surprising since he thought she had been asleep in her own room the entire night.  He approached the door slowly and peeked his head around the corner where he saw her sleeping on the couch.  Much to his dismay, she was not alone.  Bruce Wayne also lay in a slumber on the corner of the bench and Lana was leaned against his fully clothed chest in her dream word.  On the table before them sat a photo album of Wayne family.  A well-worn picture of Lana with her parents was resting next to it.

   Clark's heart sank as he realized that the two of them had made a connection and grown very comfortable with each other over the few hours they had been acquainted.  So comfortable that she had felt enough at ease to fall asleep in his arms, or so it appeared.  The girl of his dreams was again in the arms of another man, and this time the other man was a complete mystery to him.

   Clark turned away and tried not to place a mental picture of what he had just seen into his thoughts, but he knew it was already too late.  This time however, Clark decided he would not make an effort to sway her mind.  Lana seemed to be able to give her heart to just about everyone but him.  This was a fact of life he needed to accept and move on.  He placed a strong, determined look on his face as he lifted his head.  "After all," he thought to himself.  "Winning Lana's heart," was not his reason for being here.  He would solve the mystery behind Lex's murder first and worry about his high school crush later.

   Alfred placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries before him when he sat at the large empty dinning room table.  Clark smiled up at him politely.  "Thank you, sir."

   He said grace as Alfred watched, very much surprised.  Then Clark dug into his early morning meal with much vigor.  The fast food meal they had eaten the night before left much to be desired, so he enjoyed the fresh morning entrée.

   "Will you be having coffee?" Alfred asked as he placed another helping on his plate to replace the first he had scoffed down.

   "Actually, milk would be fine," Clark swallowed a mouth full.  "These eggs are great, Mr. Pennyworth."

   "Thank you, young sir," Alfred gave him a smile.  "I shall go see if we have any fresh milk in the kitchen.  I shall return promptly."

   Clark nodded his understanding and scooped up another forkful, as a sleepy Chloe walked into the room.  She was wearing a baggy pair of pink sweatpants and white sneakers with a Daily Planet tee shirt.  

   "Don't you look chipper today, Chloe," he shot her a snide smile.

   "Oh, shut up," she fired back.  "Not everyone grew up waking with the cows, Clark."  She rubbed her eyes and yawned.  "Besides, I didn't get to bed until four this morning."

   "Why," he asked with a mouth full of eggs.  "Does your room have cable?"

   "No," She sat across the table but leaned over it towards him.  "I was on Bruce's computer in the library most of the night," she said softly.  "I was trying to figure out his connection to these terrorists."

   "Chloe," he whispered back with a cautious look.  "What were you thinking?  Not only is that illegal, it could be dangerous.  We don't know anything about these guys, and there is no telling what they are capable of if they caught you going through their private stuff."

   "I didn't get caught, Clark," she slid back into her chair.  "Alfred was too busy making sure you were comfortable, and Bruce was wooing Lana in the study all night.  No one saw me.  It's one of my gifts in life to be able to disappear right before people's eyes."

   Clark knew that her last comment was aimed at him for all the months he had not noticed her attraction for him.  Clark looked to see if Alfred was coming through the door, but there was still no sign of him.  

   "So did you find anything?' Clark leaned in to whisper.

   "Besides clear evidence that is the obsessed and pathetic life of Bruce Wayne," she commented.  "I think so."

   Clark glanced at the door again.  "Well?" he coaxed.

   "Besides the fact that this guy is strung out on collecting crime stories and clippings from every form of the news media, he seems to have very extensive files on a local club in downtown Gotham called 'The Edge,'" Chloe told him.  "There have been a lot of rumors connected with the place, but no real crimes have been linked to the sight. Yet, Bruce continues to keep a very close eye on it.  Some of the notes were from his personal observations of the place.  It's like he's been casing the club."

   "Were there any indications that it could be connected to a terrorist cell?" Clark asked in a hushed tone.

   "No, but from what I was able to gather from the series of his own reports, Bruce is sure that this place is the belly of hell itself and everything bad in Gotham, if not the country, goes through this place at one point or another," She explained.  "He gave no indications of it being tied to a terrorist cell, however."

   Just then, the door to the kitchen opened and Alfred came into the room with a fresh bottle of milk in his hand.  "It would appear that you are in luck, sir," he held up the liquid as if it were a prize.  "It appears that today would be our day for a delivery."

   "That's great," Clark smiled, hoping that Alfred had not heard any part of their conversation.  He handed Alfred the empty glass that was sitting before him. 

   Chloe waited until Alfred was done and he turned his attention to her.  "I'll just have some coffee," she smiled.

   "At once," he grinned back and then left for the kitchen again.

   "So," Clark leaned again with a low voice.  "Do you think we should check this place out?"

   "It would be a good start," she agreed.  "It's a comedy club that serves alcohol, so we may have a problem getting in."

   "Maybe we can go in during the day and pretend we are looking for jobs," Clark thought out loud.

   "And if they are hiring and ask for our ID's?" Chloe gave him a dumb look.

   Clark let his eyes drift for a moment as Alfred came back and poured Chloe a cup of coffee in the cup, which was with the empty place setting before her.

   Lana came floating into the room still wearing her nightclothes and a large smile.  

   "Lana," Clark looked up with a surprised expression.  "Did you have a good rest?"

   "Good enough," she smiled again, pulling her robe tightly shut.  "Bruce and I were up until dawn looking over old family albums and just talking."

   "How sweet," Chloe commented snidely, as she ripped off a piece of a croissant role and placed it in her mouth.

   "Oh, and guess what," Lana gushed excitedly as she sat in the chair next to Chloe.  "He wants to take us all out to dinner tonight and then to a trendy comedy club called the Edge."

   Chloe and Clark both stared at each other for a second.

   "I know we are all underage, but Bruce said he could get us in so long as we don't try to have any drinks," Lana continued.  "Isn't that so sweet of him?"

   "Yeah," Clark forced a smile.  "That's just great."

   "Wait a minute," Chloe shook her hands.  "What actually happened with you and this Wayne guy last night?  When we arrived he told us to pack our bags and get out at first light, and now he wants to take us to dinner and a show?  Did I miss something?"

   "I don't know," Lana leaned back with a glow in her eyes.  "I think Bruce and I just connected on some new level.  He's a real nice guy."

   "Indeed," Alfred commented as he filled her coffee cup from over her left shoulder.

   Once he made his way back to the kitchen, Alfred found Bruce Wayne helping himself to a slice of cooked bacon he was keeping warm on a plate over the stove.  Bruce still felt like a small child whenever Alfred caught him doing these types of things.

   "Master Bruce," Alfred nodded.

   "I didn't feel like having a whole meal and just wanted a slice of bacon and some coffee," Bruce decided to defend himself wide eyed.

   Alfred raised the pot of coffee in his hands.  "I shall pour you a cup and bring it to you should you care to join the others in the dining room."

   "Not today, Alfred," Bruce seemed relaxed again. "I need to make an appearance at the office or Lucas will think I have skipped the country again.  Will you explain my absence to our guests?"

   "Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred placed the pot back on the stove, handing Bruce a full cup.  "I also understand that the four of you have a dinner engagement for tonight."

   "Oh, yes," Bruce appeared absentminded for a second.  "If you could have the limousine ready by six to drive into town, I would appreciate it."

   "Do you think it would be wise?" Alfred questioned.

   "These kids are harmless, Alfred," Bruce said stealing another piece of bacon.  "They think that by coming to Gotham they can solve the mystery of Lex Luthor's death, but this whole case is way over their heads.  Besides, I think there might be a little more to Clark than meets the eye.  I swear when I hit him last night that the kid was made of steel."

   "That is all well and good, sir, but why would you be taking them to 'The Edge'?" Alfred asked scooping some eggs onto a dish.

   "Clark and the girls are looking for a terrorist cell here in the city," Bruce took the plate and began to scoop down the eggs.  "They are not looking for an organized crime syndicate.  Besides," he pulled a piece of toast from a plate Alfred had placed next to the bacon.  "Entertaining some out of town friends is a good reason for Bruce Wayne to visit the club again."

   Alfred sighed, dropped some home fries on the plate next to the eggs that Bruce held while he was standing at the stove with him sipping on his coffee.  "I do wish you would not refer to yourself in the third person so often, sir.  It is almost as if you expect to take on a separate identity at any given moment if given the chance."

   Bruce chucked some fries in his mouth and smiled at him.  "When you do as much research and undercover work as I have been to solve the mystery of my own severed brake lines, and then to come across the Edge, it's becomes natural to think of yourself as a whole separate person from your original self."

   "Indeed," Alfred sighed with a defeated tone.

   "Oh, look at the time," Bruce glanced at his watch.  "I need to get going.  Please tell the others I'll be back this afternoon."  He then downed the last of his coffee.

   "What about breakfast?" Alfred asked him.

   "No time to eat, Alfred, I gotta go," Bruce wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin on the empty plate of eggs Alfred held.  "See you later."

   As if in a flash, Bruce disappeared out the door.

   Alfred sighed once more picking up the empty plate of bacon and the empty plate of toast and placed them over the emptied plate of eggs and home fries he held in his hands topping it off with the empty coffee mug.  He turned and walked towards the sink.  "Young Master Bruce," he spoke out loud.  "I do wish you would make time to eat a nourishing meal from time to time."  He placed the emptied dishes in the sink and looked up as his lips twisted into a slight smile.

   Jonathan Kent had been refusing to take visitors all morning when he was told that he had a visitor from the Daily Planet waiting for him.  He had refused to see the reporter until the guard informed him that the reporter had a message from Clark.

   So Jonathan allowed them to escort him to the visiting room where he sat behind a glass partition.  It was not long before Perry White appeared on the other side and picked up the black phone receiver.  Jonathan did the same with a rather disgusted look on his face.

   "Good afternoon, Mr. Kent," Perry smiled.  "My name is Perry White with the Daily Planet.  You look rather disappointed to see me."

   "I was hoping for another reporter," Jonathan sighed.

   "Oh I get it," Perry smiled again.  "I guess you were hoping I was Chloe Sullivan."

   "Something like that," Jonathan leaned back in his chair.  "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I have had my fill of reporters in the last month, so if you don't mind, I would just rather say no comment and go back to my cell."

   "But Mr. Kent," Perry spoke quickly.  "I do have a message from Clark."

   Jonathan stopped short of placing the phone on the hook and instead returned it to his ear.  "I'm listening," he said cautiously.  

   "You've got a good kid, Mr. Kent," Perry tried to breath a little easier.  "He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry he had to run out on you on such short notice, but he got a tip on his Luthor theory and he had to leave Metropolis and Smallville before the police caught up to him."

   "The police?" Jonathan said with concern.

   "Yeah, they figured out that he was in Metropolis with Chloe and that Lana girl and they told him they wanted him back here for questioning."

   "About what?" Jonathan snapped.  "Clark is even more innocent than Martha and I, and we didn't do anything.  The only plus we have is we know how Lionel Luthor works."

   "That may be very helpful on my case, Jonathan," Perry dispensed with the formalities.  "I need your input to answer one question for me.  Do you think Lionel is sick enough to have his own son murdered?"

   "What?" Jonathan was shocked.

   "Your son seems to trust you beyond doubt, so I will too," Perry leaned into the glass.  "I found evidence that Lex Luthor may have been murdered deliberately.  His brake lines were all cut."

   Jonathan rubbed his face with his free hand.  "Oh, my God," he gasped.  "This whole thing just keeps getting more out of hand everyday."

   "So," Perry repeated.  "Do you think Lionel would have had Lex murdered and when the heat got too close, he framed you on a lesser charge of liability to remove the attention from himself or any further investigations into the condition of the car."

   Jonathan rubbed his face again.  "With Lionel, just about anything is possible, Mr. White.  All I can tell you is that Lionel is running scared right now, and he is willing to hurt anyone who gets in his way."

   Perry eyed Jonathan for a few moments.  "I think your son and the girls may be in trouble," he spoke softly and deliberately.  "I think Lionel is willing to kill to cover up his secrets."

   Jonathan's eyes grew large.  "What are you not telling me, Perry?"

   Perry took a quick look around to see if anyone was listening and then he leaned in again.  "When Chloe was in town looking for some leads on who would want to kill Lex, she came across a theory that it was some terrorist cell that had made threats in the past against rich, billionaire kids.  The three of them went off to Gotham City to follow a lead on another rich kid.  Yet, in the mean time, a very interesting article came across my desk over the wire this morning.  A group of Middle Eastern males were found in their Boston apartment yesterday, dead.  The report claims they were killed gang land style, and there were no clues linked to any suspects."  He paused for effect and then continued.  "Now the most interesting part was that three of the four men killed had links to the very same terrorist cell that Chloe was investigating."

   "Oh, dear Lord," Jonathan gushed.

   "My own personal belief is that Lionel followed the same theory as Chloe did and had these men killed," Perry explained.  "The only question is what his true reason was.  Did he kill these guys as revenge for his son, or did he kill them to cover up what really happened to Lex?  If these guys had lived to clear their names, then the suspicion would have had to fall somewhere else."

   Jonathan remained silent as his mind pondered all the possibilities.

   "My guess is that you Smallville types have had Lionel on your tails for a very long time now," Perry added.  "So you have more of an idea of what he is capable then I would."

   Jonathan looked up from his concern.  "The Lionel Luthor I have known over the years is capable of just about anything.  The only question is, why would he go through all this trouble to cover up his son's murder when he could have pointed the finger at the culprits the whole time?"

   "Chloe thinks that Lionel is covering due to family pride," Perry informed him.  "She thinks that he is like a lot of these other families that were hit, he was just trying to save family face with the public and not let it be known that someone was able to get to him so easily."

   "No," Jonathan's eyes grew red.  "Lionel is the vengeful type, and he is not afraid to be more public about it.  I think this whole drunk driving rap against us may not only be to cover up something else, but knowing Lionel, he's trying to punish us for letting someone get to his son while he was at our home that night.  Lionel is running a very sophisticated show and it's all starting to fall down around him.  He's running scared and eventually he will make a mistake."

   "So what do we do until then?" Perry asked.

   "We wait and pray that Clark uncovers something that will blow the lid off of this whole case," Jonathan said looking directly at his eyes.  "If you hear from Clark, give him a message for me."

   "Sure," Perry leaned in with great interest.

   "Lionel wants me to tell him to come home," Jonathan started.  "But you tell my son that he has to follow this to the end.  Terrorist cell or father's rage, whether Lionel is the victim or the perpetrator of all this, this whole drama has to come to an end, and whoever did kill Lex has to be stopped."

   Perry could tell that Jonathan was very serious about this statement.  "I will, Jonathan, I promise."

   Pete Ross was in the campground kitchen preparing the serving trays for the supper rush of campers in a few hours.  He filled the basins with warm water to heat up even further.  The water would help keep the trays of food placed over it warm while they waited to be served.  He was busy with his work and did not notice Pastor Springs when he entered the service area.

   "Pete," Pastor Springs got his attention.

   "Oh, hey, Pastor," Pete looked up.  "I was just getting ready for the crowds.  I didn't see you standing there."

   Pastor Springs had a worried look on his face as he spoke.  "Pete, when Clark and the girls were here, did they leave you a number to contact them with?"

   "No," Pete leaned on the counter.  "I'm afraid not, sir.  Is something wrong?"

   "I'm afraid so," Pastor Springs sighed.  "Someone from the church just called me.  It would seem that Lana's aunt has had an accident and is in Metropolis General Hospital."

   "Oh, my God," Pete gasped standing to attention. "What happened, is she all right?"

   "It would appear that Miss Potter was on her way to an early morning meeting with Lionel Luthor today, and she was mugged getting out of her car in the parking lot."

   "Owe," Pete cinched.  "Is she all right?"

   "That is why we need to contact Lana," He told Pete.  "Nell slipped into a coma and they don't know if she will be able to wake up."

   A sick feeling came to Pete's stomach.  Nell was attacked on her way to see Lionel.  Perhaps Clark was right, and there was a lot more to Lex's death than any of them knew.  Perhaps Clark, Chloe, and Lana were in a lot more danger than they even knew possible.  What ever was going on, he knew it was time to get involved.

     The darkness was beginning to fall outside the window of the dark room again.  It had been over eighteen hours since the room's sole occupant removed the intravenous needle in his arm.  Because of the constant darkness of the quarters, he was able to fool the nurse each time she had come to put more drugs into the tubes.  The contents would simply go through the line and drain off his arm.  Although he was still greatly weakened and in much pain due to the lack of pain relief medication, he was able to keep his mind clear and waited to make his move.

   The nurse had come in and done her job with the medication and then left the room for the night.  He waited for several minutes until he was sure that he heard no other sounds in the next room.  Then the sheets began to rustle again in the darkness.

   Getting out of bed this time was equally as difficult at it had been earlier.  The stiffness of his right leg and his left arm only made this task all the more difficult, but he was determined to get up and out of this room once and for all.

   A loud groan was heard as he stood up under the weight of his own body for only the second time in four days.  The pain from his injuries and the stiffness of non-movement for all this time was making the chore nearly impossible.  With all the pain, he still had the resolve to pick up the wooden horse carving he had dropped under his bed earlier with a great struggle, but he was able to retrieve it and cradled it in his good arm as he slowly made his way over to the window again.  The task took nearly ten minutes to complete.

   Once at the window, he placed the carving back on the sill where he had retrieved it from last night and leaned his weight on it for a short moment.  Then, taking a deep breath, he released the statue and raised his hand to the curtains.  He was uncertain how long he would be able to maintain his balance, so in a swift motion he clutched the edge of the drapes and pulled them aside, revealing the dusked sky over the city below.

   Staggering, he reached back down for the woodcarving and leaned on it.  The young man took a long, hard look over the sweltering city below and tried to take in all that he could about his surroundings.  The shimmer of the red evening sun began to glow across his hairless head.  He kept looking down, and then as if an afterthought, he raised his handsome and slightly bruised face to the brightly lit sky.  A hurt look crossed the man face and tears seem to be shining in the sun's ray.  Then, in a very frail and crass voice from lack of use and injuries, Alexander Luthor called into the dusked sky.  "Clark, where are you?  Why haven't you found me yet?"

   Lex fell into the frame of the window and rested his weight on the sill.  He wrapped his face in his free arm and he spoke again.  "Please Clark, you have to help me."  Then Lex's fragile form slipped off the window ledge and crumbled to the floor in a whimper of pain.  Once settled, his good hand reached up and pulled down the wooden horse that Clark had made him for Christmas last year, and Lex held it tight to his chest again.  He drifted off into a pain filled slumber with his hopes set on a rescue by his best friend.

TO BE CONTINUED

***Notes***

Wow, lots of reviews this week and I'm eating them up.  Thank you all so much.  It's nice to know that my story is hitting the mark, and I thank you all so much for not only reading, but for taking the time to review.  Thank you!

To Timberlover360:  I didn't get your review in time to post last time, but if you do all those fancy moves you said you would when this story is finally done, then please record it and send me a copy.  It sounds like fun.

To Teri:  I'm glad you like Bruce and Lana together.  I thought it would be an interesting match and will add to the story as we progress.  I also loved the Clark and Alfred talk.  If the truth were known, Alfred is my most favorite character in the whole DC universe.  It's one thing to be out there cracking skulls all night, but to be able to stay behind and be the man behind the man is the real hero to me.  He's also the one person who we all more over embody in the real world.  Thanks for your kind words.

To Merrie:  Merrie, Merrie, Merrie, I can always count on you for a good review.  Thank you so much for hanging in there.  I have no intention on stopping until this train comes to a complete stop, so have no fear.  If all goes well, the train station should be coming into sight at any time now.

To Maureen:  Thanks for reviewing.  I'll admit that some of the twist and turns along the way have thrown me for a loop every now and again, but I hope you think that I am handling the turns just fine.  Thanks for reading and writing.

To Jellybeany: Thanks again and read on.

To Suz:  Thanks for the kind words, and I hope you like the new twist.

To MitchPell:  Okay, so Chloe is a computer wiz.  Please read my comments from last week on how long it took me to figure out the html format and how I did it, and you'll see that computers are one of my week spots.  I tried to make it seem like allot of time had gone by without actually dragging the chapter out.  Oh well =).  As for Lionel, every time his lips move he's usually lying or is he?  Yes, again the horse plays a part in the plot.  It was actually an after thought, but I have come to like having it around.  It has become a symbol of hope for Lex and has even been used as a clue from time to time.  Perhaps in this very chapter.  Thanks for your constant reviews and kind words.  They mean allot to me.

To Elanah:  Thanks for your review and the nice words.  I am sorry that the mistakes have taken away from your enjoyment in any way.  Christin and I try hard and she has been working her tail off for me, so I can't complain.  You should actually see what she has to read through some times.  Again I'm sorry and we will try to do better.  If you do happen to know where these particular mistakes are in the story and you wouldn't mind sending me the list, then I promise to try and clean them up as soon as possible.  Thanks for your concern and review.

So that rounds them out for this chapter.  I hope I haven't left anyone out.  I'm very happy with myself for my last chapter matching up so well with Lineage.  I was worried for a while as to why Lionel really did it, but when he has Jonathan talk the Ross brothers into selling, it went right along with my story.  Even the 'selling my soul' line was in there to some degree.  So now I can breathe again and not have to do a rewrite.

Thank you all again for reading and please keep the reviews coming.  

Best Wishes and God Bless you all

Phaze


	14. Chapter Fourteen

A Death in the Family: Chapter 14 

**   The sun had already set over Metropolis as Perry White made his way to the empty parking lot around the corner from the Daily Planet building.  He had promised his wife Alice that he would be home for dinner, and in time to tuck their son into bed for the night.  Looking at his watch, Perry knew he was already an hour late on full filling his first commitment to her.  When he reached his car he fumbled with the keys in his pocket as he pulled them out into the dim lights of the garage structure.**

   Reaching the keyhole with his keys, he felt a sudden shiver trace up his spine and a sense of danger lurking close by over came him.  Perry turned quickly to see a very large man standing behind him.  Before he could react, the larger man slammed his bare fist into Perry's face knocking him hard against the vehicle. 

   Perry grunted as he fell to his knees.  Blood was coming from the corner of his mouth, which he found when he tried to test his jaw for damage.  The attacker left no time for recovery as he swung his large foot into Perry's rib cage with great force.

   Doubling over Perry was able to grunt out, "Who are you?  Why are you doing this?"

   The man had placed his right hand on Perry's head and positioned his left fist high above him about to come down with a force.  Perry thought quickly using his left arm and was able to block the fist, which, instead of smashing into his head or neck, cracked against his forearm.  Perry screamed in pain as he was sure that his arm was now broken.

   He slumped to the dirty ground and held his arm as the man lingered over him.  "What are you going to do to me?" He cursed.

   "You need to be taught a lesson on how to mind your own business," The grunt of a voice told him.  "My employer wants you to stop your investigation into the Luthor accident."

   "Who's your employer?" Perry asked through the pain as he looked up and saw the silhouette of the very large man.

   "You don't need to know that," the voice grunted as his right foot met Perry's already, tender ribs, again.

   "Argh!"  Perry let out the loudest scream he had ever heard come from his own mouth.  Then another fist came down on the top of his head just over his left eye, ripping the skin and crashing his head against the metal door of his own car.

   Perry slumped foreword again and waited for the next blow.  He only prayed that this beating would be over soon and he would be allowed to live and return to his wife and son.  He waited with his head down for a few seconds, but no new strikes came.  He could hear a struggling sound before him, so Perry decided he would slowly look up.

   After a few short seconds, Perry raised his pain filled head into the shadow of the man who lingered over him.  Between the blood in his eyes and the pain induced blur, not to mention the light behind his assailant being bright in his face, Perry thought he could see the larger man struggling with what appeared to be a slightly smaller person hanging off his back.

   Perry took the opportunity and backed himself against the car hoping it would provide any comfort what so ever.  He was in no shape to get up and run away just yet.  He watched as the two men struggled with each other.  He had already wondered who his attacker was, and now he was trying to figure out who would be stupid enough to wrestle such a large person to save him.

   After a few more moments of a struggle, Perry watched as the smaller man's shadow reached around and grabbed the man's forehead and twisted his head swiftly in an unnatural direction.  A horrendously sickening and muffled cracking sound of bones being broken and flesh being torn followed the movement.  The sound was followed by the instant stop of motion from the large man.  His hands were in the air reaching for the smaller man when the noise sounded.  Now they hung in mid air for a few seconds and then quickly fell to his side.  The smaller man jumped off and watched for a few more seconds as the larger one seemed to float in the space around him and then with out anymore commotion, slump to the floor.

   His head hit Perry's lap and he could see blood draining from the man's mouth and ears.  His eyes were wide open, but his neck was twisted in a manner that he was sure no human being could ever hope to achieve.  It didn't take a medical degree for Perry to know that the other man had broken this man's neck, and he was now dead.  Quickly he used his good hand and pushed him away.

   "Are you alright, White?" the new shadow asked in a much more humane voice.

   "Yeah, yes," Perry stuttered.  "Who--who are you and why did you kill this man?"

   "Who I am is unimportant," the shadow said.  "You need to get yourself to a hospital."

   "I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," Perry tried to be stern as his face grimaced in pain.  "Who are you people?"

   "That man," a black-gloved hand pointed to the dead body.  "He was a hired thug by Lionel Luthor to work you over in hopes of you stopping the investigation into his son's death."

   "And who are you?" Perry looked up again.

   "I was hired by some people who want to see Lionel Luthor pay for his sins," the shadow spoke.  "There are some people who want you to tell your story."

   "I don't even know what the story is," Perry insisted.  "What should I be looking for?"

   "I can't tell you that," the shadow began to walk away. "Just know that you are aiming in the right direction."

   "Wait!"  Perry screamed at the man that he could now see who was dressed all in black with a tightly woven ski mask over his face.  "Who are you?"

   The man stopped and looked back.  "Some call me Death Stroke," he answered.

   "Whom do you work for?" Perry thought he would push the limits.

   The man remained silent and Perry thought he could see the man smile under the mask with no hole for his mouth.  Then the man pulled a lighter out of his pocket and held it up to the sprinkler a few feet over his head.  The flames touch the sprinkler, which set it off and all the sprinkler heads around them began to spew water.  A loud screeching alarmed began and Death Stroke returned his lighter to his pocket.

   "That should bring help for you in a few minutes," he said and then turned and disappeared into the shadows again.

   Perry leaned his head against the car and let the water run down his injured face.  He held tightly to his injured arm as he took another look at the assailant who laid dead just a few inches from his hurting body.

   "Dear, God," he looked up into the heavens.  "What I have gotten myself into?"

   The water continued to fall and the alarm continued to sound as Perry waited for the help that he too knew would come.

   The long black limousine pulled up in front of 'The Edge,' a comedy club on the upper west side of Gotham City.  The club was ablaze with lights on the outside and Clark watched through the tinted windows of the car as people waited patiently to be allowed in.  By the crowd that appeared, they could tell that this was a very popular and trendy place where not everyone was allowed to enter as some of the people on the sidewalk were now discovering.

   Alfred stepped out of the driver's seat and walked around to the rear passenger door and opened it.  Bruce Wayne in a smart dark blue suit was the first to step out.  He turned and held his hand as Lana's hand came out of the vehicle and grasped it.  He helped her to exit the car.  Lana was wearing a teal blue evening gown with matching shawl, which Bruce thought made her look breathtaking, and he was right.

   Clark was the next to emerge wearing a smart black suit with a royal blue dress shirt and matching silk tie.  He held his hand out and Chloe took it as he helped her out of the car.  She was wearing a soft pink strapless gown that also had a matching shawl that she let fall back and wore over her arms.  They were all stunning and even after refusing the offer of new clothes for the evening by Bruce, they were shocked that Alfred was able to acquire the outfits that fit them perfectly and in the perfect styles for each one of their personalities.

   Alfred took a moment to admire his handy work as they gathered together outside the club.  "I must say," he commented.  "You do all look quite smashing this evening."

   "Yeah," Clark tugged at his lapel.  "It's amazing what a two thousand dollar suit can do for a guy."

   "Well, I personally love my Vera Wang," Lana smiled and gave them a twirl as her long skit danced in the breeze.

  "Personally," Chloe added with a sour look.  "This makes me feel that if I so much as put a wrinkle in this outfit when I sit down, the fashion police are going to show up and haul me off to fashion prison in Moulin or someplace stupid like that."

   "I think you all look great," Bruce gave them one of his rare smiles.  "Even you, Clark.  You look so GQ in that suit.  Have you ever done any modeling?"

   "Me?" Clark blushed.  "No, I could never pose or take my clothes off in front of a camera or anything like that."

   "Yeah, right," Chloe chuckled.  "Clark a model?  The next thing you'll tell us is that you think Lana should be pushing makeup products."

   "Oh, well," Bruce shrugged.  "I guess we better get inside."

   "I shall go park the vehicle and wait for your call for my return," Alfred announced to Bruce as he stepped away and returned to the driver's seat.

   "Are you sure we can get in?" Clark asked loudly over the noise of the crowd as they approached the door.

   Bruce stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at him.  "Clark," he put his hand over his chest.  "I'm Bruce Wayne."

   "Oh, yeah," Clark shrugged with a forced dumb look on his face.  "What was I thinking?  My bad."

   The line at the front door nearly stretched to the end of the block, but Bruce led his group to the front of the line.  They all watched him attentively as he approached the doorman and gave him his best playboy smile.  "My friends and I are here to enjoy the show," he said into the man's ear as their hands met in a brisk handshake.

   "Of course Mr. Wayne," the large burley man grinned accepting the hand.  "Step right inside."

   Clark watched as they're hands separated and he could swear he saw some green and white paper slip from Bruce's palm to the bouncer's hand.  He gave himself a rye smirk as it accrued to him, 'So that's how the rich do it.'

   The inside of the club was bigger than anything the Smallville gang had ever been in, but given their limited history of night clubbing, this was perhaps the only club they had ever been in.  Clark was shocked at the size of the large colorful and dazzling room.  He was sure that they could fit four Talons into this place and maybe a Beanery or two for good measure.  

   They all stared at the hordes of people who were mingling around and enjoying each other's company.  The room was filled with small wooden tables with a set of four high back chairs in abstract designs at each.  Along the right wall was a large bar area with a mirror covering the entire wall that was lined with various types of alcohol bottles.  The left wall was the emergency door and restrooms were located along with the entrance to the kitchen where the hot snack foods were prepared.  The table settings were spread out around the room in a fan like position with a small modest stage in the center of the far wall as its center point where the comedians would strut their stuff.  The walls and furnishings were all silver and shinny and shimmered as they made their way through the masses towards their table.

   A hostess showed them to a small table near the front and off to the left side of the stage close to where the restrooms were located.  One side of the table was to the sidewall, and it was there that Bruce placed himself after seating Lana to his right.  Clark sat to Bruce's left and Chloe sat to his left.  Chloe had the seat with the stage directly behind her, but Clark planned that she would be able to turn her seat and Lana and Bruce could still see over her as opposed to trying to see around his tall frame.

   A cute, young, female waitress with short blond hair in curls wearing a black and white waiter's outfit came over to the table.  "May I get you something to drink?" she asked.

   "Pepsi all around," Bruce called out to her.  "If that's alright with everyone?" he turned to his guest.

   They all nodded their approvals.  "We will also start out with a sample platter of you finger foods."

  "Very, well," she wrote down his instructions and then disappeared.

   Clark was surprised that Bruce did not order a hard drink for himself.  Was he trying to fit in and be polite, or was he trying to somehow impress Lana with his own self-control?

    "I don't know if we can eat after that great food at the restaurant," Lana told Bruce.

   "The snacks will be here just incase," Bruce stared into her eyes.  "So did you enjoy the restaurant?"

   "It was so elegant and beautiful," Lana commented staring back in his eyes. "And so expensive."

   "I wanted to impress you on our first night out," Bruce told her.

   "Oh, and you did," she cooed back.

   "Yeah," an annoyed Clark joined in.  "We have a restaurant just like it back in Smallville," he told them.  "Only we call 'The Outback Steakhouse.'"

   Chloe could not help but snort back a laugh.  She could not believe that Clark was behaving like this.  After all this time of playing tug-a-war with Lana's feeling and finally admitting that their relationship was going nowhere, he was still jealous of her attention towards another man.

   Lana took her eyes off of Bruce long enough to give Clark the evil eye.

   Clark looked away, but was clearly proud with himself for the cheap shot.  He then began to look over the patrons in the rest of the club.  Everything seemed normal so far, and he was not ready to use his x-ray vision where so many people could see him and wonder why he was staring at the walls.

   "Chloe," he leaned into her ear on the opposite side where Bruce could not see and hopefully not hear him.  Yet with all his attention on Lana, it would surprise Clark if the playboy noticed anything else at all.

   "What?" Chloe returned in a whisper as she too turned away from the table.

   "Have you spotted anything suspicious, yet?" he asked.

   "Clark," she sighed.  "We've been here, like, five seconds.  I don't think we've had time to spot anything."

   "I know, but you have a natural gift for spotting anything out of place," he whispered back.

   "Yeah," Chloe rolled her eyes.  "It's kinda like Lana's gift of being able to suck the life out of any good looking guy in the room."

   Clark raised his eyebrow in disapproval.

   "I know," she tossed her eyes again.  "Disk the billionaire play toy all we want, but the prom queen is the neutral zone."

   "Thanks," he grinned with his boyish charm that always sent Chloe's heart into a flutter.  "Now back to our plan."

   "Bruce Wayne," a larger than life voice bellowed out above the rest of the sounds in the room.  "If it's not my old friend, Bruce Wayne,"

   They all looked up to see a man in his late thirties with light brown hair, bordering on red, and a mustache to match.  He wore a thin, pin-striped maroon suit that would have looked out of place on anyone else, but seemed to fit in with this man's over the top personality.  It also helped that the suite seemed close in color to his hair.  He was a fairly built man who was not overweight, but was not slender either.  He flashed a big, white smile as he approached the table.

   "Morgan Edge," Bruce stood up.  "You old dog.  They told me the other night that you were still out of town on business."

   "I was, I was," the jollier man replied.  "I just got back this evening.  My people told me that you were casing my place these last few weeks.  You're not setting me up for a buy out are you now, Bruce."

   "No Morgan," Bruce grinned.  "I could never run this place as well as you.  My own mother use to joke that us Wayne men didn't know comedy from crime."

   "Ah," Morgan frowned.  "Sometimes with these acts, it's hard to tell the difference."

   Bruce laughed along with his old friend.  "Oh, by the way," he gestured to the groups.  "These are some new friends of mine."  He pointed each one out.  "This is Chloe Sullivan, my date Lana Lang, and our friend, Clark Kent."

   "How do you do, sir?" Clark stood and shook Morgan's hand.

   "Very well, young man," he grinned at the boy.

   "Clark, girls," Bruce added.  "This is Morgan Edge.  He owns this club."

   "You might say I'm the real edge to 'The Edge.'" Morgan joked.

   Meanwhile, across the room, a stranger to the club stood alone in a corner that was hidden from the view of Bruce's table.  He held his cell phone to his ear and waited for someone to pick up.  After a few rings he heard a voice say, "Lionel Luthor."

   "Mr. Luthor," the stranger spoke.  "It's Summers.  I have the three kids in my view right now at a club here in Gotham City."

   "I was afraid of that," Lionel replied.  "The fact that they are in Gotham at all means they are too close to the truth already."

   "They seem to be getting in good with that Wayne guy, sir," Summers continued.  "And that Morgan Edge guy is over at their table right now talking to them."

   "Bruce Wayne is of no concern to me, but now that Morgan Edge is back in town, he could destroy everything" Lionel said.  "You need to stop him before he talks to the kids.  I want Morgan to be silenced.  If he is responsible for our prior problems, then he is far more dangerous than I thought."

   "What about the kids, sir?" Summers asked in a whisper.

   "You need to stop Edge from speaking with them, Summers," Lionel was hesitant before continuing.  "Once Morgan Edge is finished, then the problem should be solved, but if the kids get in the way or learn too much, then they will have to be dealt with."

   "Yes, sir," Summers smiled as he removed the phone from his right ear revealing a large scar on his cheek.  He placed the phone in his inside coat pocket and as he did, the silver metal of his concealed gun caught a glint of light and flashed along with all the other glitter in the room.

   Once he moved away from the corner, a small girl stepped out of the shadows behind him.  She was a very pretty young woman of about fourteen years old, and she was very out of place in this club, but she had connections.  Her tight, silver, evening gown with the slits on either side that went up to her thighs left little for the imagination.   The neckline was low and exposed much of her young figure.  The stiletto heels she wore helped to make her taller than her mere five foot frame and her very short black hair was gelled and combed very close to her head in an almost nineteen twenties style.  She was breathtakingly beautiful, and she was concerned.  She heard what the man was saying on his phone, and she saw the flash of the gun's stock in the light.  The only question was what to do next.

   "Salina!" Morgan Edge's loud voice called across the room.  "Salina, get over here.  I have some friends I want you to meet."

   The young girl blushed as she realized she was being called, and everyone in the club was staring at her.  She quickly made her way across the room using all her womanly charm, as Morgan had taught her to do.  Her movement was cool and précised and she seemed to have no body weight as she glided along the thin line she made across the floor.  She moved with the poise and grace of healthy feline.  One could almost swear they could hear her purr as she passed them.

   Once at the table, Morgan wrapped his stout arm around her tiny waist.  "Ladies and Gentleman," Morgan grinned.  "This is one of my best working girls.  Salina Kyle, meet the gang."

   "Hello," Clark nodded as the girls did the same.

   "Salina Kyle," Chloe commented.  "What and unusual name."

   "I like it," Salina shot a rye look at her.

   "Salina, these are our special guests tonight," Morgan told her with a large grin.  "See what you can do to make them more comfortable."  He swung her around and gently placed her on Clark's lap whom instantly turned red.

   Morgan moved to the back of the table to talk to Bruce as the others watched Salina wrap her arms around Clark's neck and planted a red-hot kiss on his lips.

   "So this is what he meant by saying 'working girl'," Chloe commented.  "Am I completely invisible to everyone?"

   Salina nuzzled into Clark's ear as she raised her eyes to see Summers approach the table while resting his hand on the weapon under his coat.  She saw when he moved it that it had a silencer on the tip, so whatever he was planning to do, it was clear that Summers was going to do it here and now. Salina buried her face in Clark's neck again.  Perhaps if she didn't see the assassin coming, then he really wasn't there.  She prayed that that alone was enough to save these people.

   Martha waited behind the glass partition at the Smallville prison wearing a bright orange prison suite.  She was pacing back and forth and could hardly contain herself as she waited for her lawyer.  It was late in the evening and she was the only prisoner in the visiting room.  So she took the liberty of walking off her anguish.  Her side of the glass was much roomier than her small prison cell she had to share with one other prisoner.  The other inmate was a call girl and she and Martha were able to get along very well, but this small blessing did little to ease her fear over her family.

   "Martha," a slightly heavy set African American man sat in one of the window boxes and picked up a phone.

   "Bill," She reached her receiver plopping herself on the wooden seat.  "Did you do what I asked you on the phone?" Her voice was rushed and panicked.  "Did you see Jonathan?"

   "Yes, Martha," He tried to smile for her.  "I just left him a few minutes ago, and he's fine."

   "Oh, thank God," Martha leaned into her hand.  "I was so scared when I heard about Nell.  I could not help wonder if Lionel had gotten to Jonathan, too."

   "Now Martha," Bill warned.  "We don't know that Lionel had anything to do with Nell's attack.  The Luthor Corps employee who brought her into the hospital said he found her in the parking lot.  Her purse, shoes, and all her money were gone.  So the police are calling it a mugging until they know more from her."

   Martha leaned back in the chair, but she was still clearly upset.  "She's in a coma, Bill," she fumed.  "She was on the Luthor property and now she's in a coma.  She knows something, and Lionel did this to her to keep her from talking."

   "Don't you think that you might be getting just a little paranoid, Martha?" Bill Ross asked her with a concerned look.

   "Bill," Martha leaned forward with a furious look in her eyes.  "You are our lawyer and our friend.  Have you not been paying attention to what has been happening around Smallville since Luthor came to town?  You have also seen what Lionel has been putting my family through these last few weeks."  

   Martha brushed her hair back in frustration as she continued.  "My God, Bill, Jonathan and I are in jail on a ludicrous charge that we never committed, and Clark is on the run looking for clues that might lead him to what really happened to his dead friend.  And now, Nell has been silenced."

   "Oh come on, Martha," Bill cautioned.  "It's the police who have pressed the charges.  Lionel waved all his rights to prosecution.  As for Clark, they just want him to answer a few questions.  He's free to go home right after he answers them.  He's the one who went into hiding."

   "If everything is going according to the law, then why has it been three days and Jonathan and I have not been arraigned yet?" She asked him with tear in her eyes.  "You are the lawyer around here.  Don't we have a legal right to a bail hearing and arraignment within twenty-four hours of our arrest?  For goodness sake, Bill.  Your wife, Sandra, is a judge. Couldn't she help move this thing along?"

   "I told you why they haven't had a hearing yet," Bill sighed.  "All the court's computers were hit by some virus and it will take a few days until they can sort this whole thing out.  In the meantime, they do not dare to set bail for anyone until they have all the proper information on the case.  It's completely legal to hold people for an extra few days in times of emergencies like this."  He leaned forward.  "I'm sorry Martha, but my hands are tied right now."

   Martha seemed to collect herself but still had a stern look on her face.  She leaned even closer into the glass and gestured for him to do the same.  When they were inches apart with only a sheet of glass between them, she spoke into the receiver again.  "We are overlooking one very important thing," she spoke softly and deliberately slow.  "Who sent the virus to the court's computers?"

   Bill was silent as he realized what she was getting at.

   "Lionel Luthor has destroyed the court's computers so he can get us out of his way, just like he did when he planted those emptied booze bottles in our trash to frame us for Lex's death," She explained to him.  "Now, somehow, Nell has gotten involved and he has found a way to remove her, too."

   Martha sat silent for a moment and then her eyes grew large.  "Wait a minute, Bill," She thought out loud.  "I remember Clark telling us that the Luthor Corps computers were hit by a virus a few months ago.  I remember him worrying about Lex getting all upset and wondering what his father would do to the company if he couldn't fix them fast enough."

   "What's your point, Martha?" A perplexed Bill asked.

   "Clark told us that the virus reacted very strangely," Martha recalled.  "The virus did not destroy or harm any of the files, but it made it impossible for the people to get to them.  It was like there was a wall placed in the hard drive that kept them out.  Once the virus was destroyed, the computers and files were all returned to normal.  Clark said it was like the hackers only wanted to make things hard and slow down the system but not destroy it."

   "I," Bill stuttered.  "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this, Martha, but that sounds like the same virus that hit the court files.  Everything is intact, but they just can't retrieve the information.  The hackers must have attacked us, too."

   "No, Bill," Martha returned with a concerned look.  "Lex found the hackers and they were arrested.  The virus was destroyed and Luthor Corps were the only ones infected."

   "What are you saying, Martha?" He asked.

   "I am saying that the only people with that knowledge and capabilities of that virus, were Luthor Corps employees," Martha almost whispered.  "I would wager that they were the ones who sent the virus and that they still have the antidote to fix it."

   Bill swallowed the lump in his throat.

   "What's next, Bill?" she asked with haunted eyes.  "What or who will Lionel go after next?"

   He was unable to speak a word.  The whole plot was becoming to clear for him, and Bill Ross was afraid.

   The room was still fairly dark, but Lex Luthor had found the dimmer switch on the wall and turned the lights on low.  He could not handle the brighter lights after so long of sitting in complete darkness.  Pain from his previous injuries was coursing through his body as he sat perched against the wall next to the door.  He had made his way over there slowly and was now pounding on the door with his fist.  He was still frail and his voice was slightly horsed, but he continued to pound and scream as loud as he possibly could.

   "Let me out of here!" His loud screech cut through the room that was void of everything but a bed and a few medical machines.  "You have no right to hold me like a prisoner."

   After several hours of the same behavior, Lex was surprised when he heard the knob on the door turning.  If he had been stronger and healthier, he would have made his break at this moment, but all Lex could do tonight was wait in pain as the person behind the barrier opened the door.

   A tall light haired man entered the room and stood over Lex.

   "Let me out of here," Lex demanded with a sneer.  He was clearly worn and in pain as the sweat from holding back the discomfort rolled down his face.

   "You must try to relax, Mr. Luthor," the handsome man said.  "All this yelling and banging is only going to wear you out and that is not good for your health right now."

   "I don't care," Lex snarled in a slightly nasal voice as he rested his head against the wall.  "I need to get out of here.  You can't hold me like a prisoner forever.  I want to go back to Smallville.  I want to go to my friends.  I want to go back to my life."

   "I'm afraid that would be impossible right now," the standing man crossed his arms.

   "Please," Lex almost pleaded closing his blood shot eyes with the wide black rings under them.  "Please let me out."

   "Why don't you let us give you something for the pain, Mr. Luthor?" he said.  "You are clearly in a lot of discomfort."

   "No," Lex's head shot forward and his eyes opened wide.  "No more drugs.  You people have had me on so many drugs the last few days, I don't even know what planet I'm on anymore."

   "The drugs were to keep you from hurting yourself like you almost did when you got out a while back," the guard explained.

   "I needed to get out like I need to get out of here now," Lex insisted.  "I need to get some fresh air,"

   "Now, now, Lex," another voice sounded from the other side of the open door.  "This is Kansas.  There is no more fresh air."  The second man entered the room and stood next to the first.  "We Luthors destroyed all the fresh air there was, or so the locals would have everyone believe," the second voice belonged to Lionel Luthor.

   Lex looked up at his father with contempt in his eyes.  "You can't hold me like a prisoner here, father."

   "You're not a prisoner, Lex," Lionel reached down for one arm as the guard reached for the other.  "You are a guest who is recovering from a very bad accident."

   Lex groaned as they picked him off the floor, but he made no effort to resist.  In truth, he was very uncomfortable on the floor, but could not get himself back up.

   They walked him slowly over to the bed.  "You have suffered some severe injuries, and you need to allow yourself to heal."

   "I can do that at home," Lex grunted.

   "But here you are safe," Lionel said as they slowly lowered him to the mattress.  "Until I discover for sure who did this to you, I need to keep you guarded."

   "Like a prisoner," Lex repeated.

   "Nonsense," Lionel gruffer.  "I told you that you would be free to go when the danger has ended."

  They pulled the blankets back over Lex.  "Why are you so concerned about my well-being all of the sudden, father?"

   Lionel leaned over his reclined son and looked into his eyes.  "Because you are my son, Lex.  No one will kill a Luthor so long as I am alive."

   "You can't protect me forever," Lex said in a tired voice.

   "I will shield you for as long as I need to," Lionel replied.  "Now let us give you something for the pain."

   Lex reached up to his father's lapel with his good hand.  "No more drugs to keep me under control," his eyes almost pleaded.

   Lionel pulled his hand away and rubbed Lex's head with his other hand.  "I need you to promise me that you won't try to make any more phone calls like you did the other day."

   Lex nodded slightly and licked his dry lips.  "I promise," he spoke in a hush tone.  "No more phone calls or stupid stunts if you don't use the mind altering drugs."

   "Very well," Lionel almost smiled in what seemed like a compassionate way.  He waved the guard out of the room to get the nurse.

   "Do," Lex spoke through his pain.  "Do you know who did this?"

   "I have my suspicions," Lionel said as he maintained his close proximity to Lex's face.  "But we can talk about those things when you are feeling better."

   The nurse came in with a needle and moved to the other side of the bed.  She lowered the blankets and pulled down his pajama bottoms enough to reveal his lower thigh.  "This might sting a little," she said as she wiped a swab across the exposed flesh.  "But it will help you feel better."

   "Nothing to make me sleep," Lex tried to warn her, but it came out almost as a plea.

   "No, Mr. Luthor," she smiled.  "You won't need drugs to help you sleep tonight."

   She jabbed the needle into his soft flesh and Lex slightly cringed.  After a few seconds, she removed it and returned his pajamas to where they were before.  She then replaced the blankets and padded his hand.  "You should feel a lot better in a few minutes."

   Lionel nodded to her and she left the room.

   "Now, see how much easier it is when you let me take care of you, Lex?" Lionel grinned.  "Just remember that father always knows best."

   Lex looked up at his father again.  "You can't hide me forever, Dad.  Someone will figure out where I am and come for me."

   Lionel didn't say a word.  He just stood up straight.

   "I spoke with Clark the other day, and he knows I'm not happy to be here.  He'll come and find me," Lex told his father.

   Lionel turned away and began to walk to the open door.  "Clark won't be coming for you, Lex."

   "You don't know Clark very well," Lex warned as the pain reliever began to take affect.  "He'll find me and save me from this prison."

   Lionel turned to face his son.  "Clark Kent has a lot of his own problems to deal with right now, Lex, and even if he didn't, he wouldn't go looking for someone who doesn't exist."

   Lex lifted his groggy head, slightly.  "What do you mean?"

   Lionel gave an evil smile.  "In spite of your phone call, Clark still believes like the rest of the world.  To him and everyone else, you died in that car crash, Lex.  It made the national news. Lex Luthor is dead."

   Lex's body jolted at the news.  "No," he tried to scream but found his voice was failing again.

   "I must say that your dying in his arms was a nice touch.  Clark Kent can never dispute what he witnessed first hand," Lionel grinned.  "And so long as the world thinks you are dead then you will be safe here.  Good night Lex," his father said closing the door.

   "No," Lex said again.  He tried to move but found himself unable to lift his body off the bed.  Then he felt a heavy thickness hit his brain.  The shot had not only contained pain medication, but also another doze of sleep inducing drugs.

   Lex's head fell back hard onto his pillow and he felt the numbness of his body and was unable to move a muscle.  The flow of the heavy narcotic began to wash over him and Lex could feel himself falling into its effects.  He was beginning to loose consciousness.  A stray tear seemed to roll down the helpless man's face, as he lay motionless beneath the effects of the drugs.  His mind had to settle on the fact that he was a prisoner of his own father.  Lex closed his eyes and began to drift off.  In his approaching slumber, he was able to whisper one small sentence in a tone just an octave above a hush.  "Clark," he cried.  "Please don't believe I'm dead."

TO BE CONTINUED

***NOTES***

   Hey gang, I'm back with yet another thank you for all the kind reviews.  Not as many as last week, but still a good showing.  Thank you all so much.

To Marrie: Welcome to Monday again.  You are always so nice and supportive in your reviews, and I really appreciate it.  I just hope the out come is worthy of your compliments.

To DarkAngel:  Thanks you for the kind words.  I'm glad you think things are getting

Better, because just when I think I am winding down, something else comes into my

Head, and the story goes off on its own again.

To Suz: Yup, it's Monday again.  The Nell thing was one of those surprises that I throw at myself from time to time.  Thank you for reading my other stories as well.  I like to keep my stories where they work with or off of each other.  I am really starting to like that wooden horse.  I've gotten allot of mileage out of him in this story and it's not over yet.

To MitchPell: your questions were answered in this chapter, so I don't have to play at being aloof.  But now that we know Lex is alive and who has him, the mystery is not over.  As for the story not ending, I'm beginning to wonder about that myself.  But I do hope to have this baby finished by Christmas where I have another story already lurking in the back of my head so please keep reading.

Thank you all again and keep the nice reviews coming.

Best Wishes and God Bless

Phaze


	15. Chpater Fifteen

**A Death in the Family, Chapter 15:**

**   The small room in the private living quarters adjoining Lionel Luthor's office in the Luthor Corps building was still dark as Lionel entered it to look in on his son whom was sleeping.  He turned the dimmer switch on low and made his way over to the small bed.  Lex Luthor laid peacefully, almost with out any movement at all as Lionel watched.**

   After a few minutes, his young, blond, male, assistant Randolph joined him.

   "What are all these drugs doing to him?" Lionel asked softly.

   "The doctors assure us that there will be no adverse side effects, sir," Randolph replied.

   "That's what they said about the drugs we used to fake his death," Lionel added.  "And those almost killed him."

   "You need to remember that those drugs had only previously been tested on lab animals," His assistant explained.  "The Luthor Corps doctors used a higher dosage of Opium and other medications developed in your labs.  The drugs had only been used to slow down the respiratory system and body functions in other test subjects, but you asked that your son's death be even more convincing.  So a higher dosage was used, and Lex's body attempted to fight it off as long as he could.  In his weakened condition, the task could have been fatal, but Lex survived."

   "Yes, and I knew that the Kent's and his other friends would be watching," Lionel said in a hushed tone.  "Lex's death needed to be completely convincing.  Little did I know that Clark would actually hold onto him while the drugs were taking their effect."

   "It actually worked in our favor, sir," Randolph smiled.  "The Kent boy was a great help in making Lex's death convincing.  Who could deny a person's death when they died in your arms."

   "But was it enough?" Lionel huffed.  "Even after all the trouble I have gone through to protect my son, Clark still has questions about his death."

   Randolph gave him a worried look.  "That was because the previous nurse did not give Lex enough medication, sir.  When he was able to make that phone call from your office phone, our credibility was greatly hampered."

   Lionel rubbed his chin. "Lucky you were able to cover the trail as quickly as you did, or the Kent's would have traced the call back here.  Yet it was still enough to alert Clark and his friends that something was amiss."

   "We have the kid's under surveillance, and Morgan Edge will be dealt with, Mr. Luthor," Randolph assured him.  "Once Edge is gone, along with all the Luthor Corps records, there will be nothing left for them to trace back to you.  The car Lex was driving and the cadaver we placed in his tomb were both destroyed."

   "And what about Nell Potter?" Lionel turned to him for the first time.  "How long can we hope to keep her in a coma?"

   Randolph sighed heavily.  "She could prove a problem sir," he agreed.  "But we are keeping her sedated until we are able to find a way to wipe her memory of what she saw.  No one will be able to find Lex until you are ready.  Once Morgan Edge is destroyed there will no longer be any danger."

   Lionel turned back to Lex's sleeping form.  "You make this all seem so easy, Randolph.  I have been around long enough to know that things are never easy.  Something could go wrong at any minute."

   "Let me worry about that, sir," Randolph gave a half smile.  "The only loose cannon in this whole mess is being handled right now.  Morgan Edge will die and Perry White will be warned about ever interfering again."

   "What if the reporter doesn't remain silent?" Lionel asked.

   "Let me worry about that, too, sir," Randolph told him a firm, reassuring voice.  "As your head of internal security, I will deal with any and all threats to your family's security."

   Lionel eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, but he knew what Randolph meant.  He would just let the words remain unspoken for now.  He already knew too much by ordering the death of Morgan Edge, he didn't want to be implicated in the possible death of Perry White as well.

   "Very well," he finally responded.  "Take care of these matters, and let me know when the danger is gone."

   Randolph nodded his head and stepped out of the room.

   Once in the living room area of the Luthor Corps private living quarters, Randolph's cell phone began to ring.

   "What?" he said into the small phone.

   He waited a second until the voice replied.  "Sir, we have a problem."

   "What type of problem, Matthews?" Randolph groaned.

   "The operative you sent to handle Perry White was just found dead in the Daily Planet's parking garage."

   "Are you telling me that White killed him?" Randolph asked.

   "No, sir," Matthews returned.  "Perry White told the police that he was being attacked when a third person showed up and killed our man."

   "What third person?" Randolph almost screamed but thought better of it.

   "According to the police, Perry White claims the man referred to himself as Death Stroke," Matthews finished.

   "What is Death Stroke?"

   "Our sources in the underground have identified him as a hired assassin," Matthews told him.  "Apparently someone has hired him to protect the reporter.  The only question would be: who?"

   Randolph sat on the arm of the chair as he thought.  "I think I have a good idea whom," he spoke softly again.  "It would appear that Morgan Edge is onto us, and he wants White to be able to print the story once the truth is uncovered.  Our only question I: how much does Perry White already know, and when will we be able to get to him?  We need to let this die down before we go after White again."

   "Do we have that amount of time?" Matthews asked.

   Randolph wiped his face with his free hand.  "That I don't know.  We just have to watch Perry White closely, and if he gives any indications of acting before we are ready to deal with him, then we will have to silence him at once and deal with it at a later time."

   "I understand, sir," Matthews returned.  "We will handle White, if need be."

   Lionel was on his cell phone when he passed the maintenance.  As he passed by, the light indicating that the lift had reached its floor lit up over the doors.  A second later the dividers opened, and out stepped the night janitor with his cleaning cart.  He wheeled the large apparatus over to the main entrance of the Luthor Corps executive offices.  The rest of the lobby was deserted as he pulled a ring of keys off his work belt.  Pulling his head cap's visor from over his brow, the janitor looked back over his shoulder to assure himself he was alone.  When he had done that, the dim evening light flashed against his face and it was revealed that the man in the guise of night maintenance was actually Pete Ross.

   Working quickly, Pete rushed to find the right key and soon found it.  Within a few seconds, he was in the inner sanctum of the Luthor Corps offices.  He quickly pushed his cart through the door and again checked behind himself.

   Once inside, he took a relieving breath of the air-conditioned air.  He had made it this far undetected.  All he had to do now was uncover the Luthor secret that he was sure was hidden behind these walls.  So, wasting no time, Pete began his search through each office.

   Bill Ross had been a lawful man all his life.  Even after passing the Kansas Bar Association Legal Litigation Test he had sworn to up holding the law and being fair and honest at all times.  The task had proven difficult at times, but he had been able to keep his vow.  It was for this reason that his latest act seemed somehow dirty to him as he drove his late model ford into the emptied parking lot behind Fordman's Department store.  He was told to turn his headlights off when he drove between the two large buildings on Main Street, and he had done as instructed.  Once in the parking area, he saw the Chevy Lumina he had been told to seek sitting under a large light.

   Bill drove his own vehicle over to the other car slowly and pulled up next to it until the two driver's side windows were inched apart.

   Looking over, Bill could not help but smile as he saw that person he was expecting was sitting behind the steering wheel.  Gabe Sullivan had come just as he had promised in the conversation on the phone a short while earlier.  They both proceeded to roll down their windows.

   "We're you followed?" Gabe asked eying the entrance way again.

   "No," Bill replied with a cautious look back in his rearview mirror.

   "Good," Gabe smiled, holding up a case containing a CD-ROM disc.  "I think you will find this very helpful."

   Bill smiled as he reached for the case.  "I'm sure I will."  He rolled the disc in his hand for a moment.

   "From what you said over the phone," Gabe explained, "this anti-virus that our people came up with should clean up your problems."

   "The only question would be how the virus that was supposedly eradicated in the Luthor Corp's computers found its way into the court's system…" Bill looked up over his driving glasses. 

   "There are a lot of questions surrounding the Luthors and Smallville these days," Gabe gave a serious frown.  "Jonathan and Martha are good people and deserve to have fair and legal representation.  No one, or thing, should prevent that."

   Bill looked at the disc in his hand.  "You know, of course, that Lionel would not be happy with you for giving me this cure.  Allowing a company secret like this out can put his company in suspicion of illegal activities. This could cause you your job."

   "My daughter is on the run as we speak because she already believes that Luthor is hiding something," Gabe told him.  "If helping the Kents get out of jail, as they should, will help keep my child safe and bring her home, then Lionel can fire me as often as he wants.  No one hurts my baby girl."

   Bill nodded his agreement and slipped his car into gear.  "Be careful, Gabe," he warned. "From here on in, we are up to our necks in this."

   "Will do, Bill," Gabe gave a short wave.  "You go and save the Kents and our kids."

   With their mission accomplished, each car drifted back into the dark night.

   Back in the bedroom, Lex began to fidget in the bed.  He seemed to be having a nightmare, and a cold sweet covered his face. The sleep seemed to be an endless cavern to Lex as he struggled to regain consciousness.  After several minutes, he finally achieved his goal and opened his sleepy eyes.  His chest heaved as he tried to get control of himself.  It had been a long few hours since he was given the drugs to knock him out, but Lex felt that he had made his way back to reality.  He was careful to lay his head back on the pillow.  He did not want to slip back into a deep sleep.  He stared at the ceiling and tried several mind games to keep himself awake, like naming all the United States presidents in order, or reciting the capital of each state to himself.  It was several minutes before he heard a voice speak from the shadow area in the far corner of the room.

   "Does that stuff really work?"  The voice asked.

   Lex lifted his startled head.  "What?  Who's there?"

   The form of a tall man stepped out from the shadows.  "Has it been that long, Lex?  Have you forgotten me already?"

   Lex instantly recognized the smiling teen.  "Clark?" he almost screamed in joy.  "You found me."

   "Of course I found you, Lex," Clark approached the bed.  "Did you really think I would leave you here alone at the mercy of your father?"

   "Oh, God," Lex allowed his head to fall back with a large grin across his face.  "I knew you would find me.  I knew that Clark Kent would never believe that I was dead."

   "Lex," Clark smirked.  "Everyone knows that only the good die young."

   Lex gave his friend an odd look.

   "Oh, come on, Lex," Clark grinned again as the light caught his eyes.  "We both know that being good is a struggle for you.  You want to do well, but this alter ego you keep hidden in your head always pulls you in the opposite direction.  Maybe this whole prisoner thing is God's way of paying you back for your sins."

   "Clark?" Lex stared up at him.  "Is everything alright?  You seem to be acting strange."

   The younger man turned away from the bed.  "Don't be so surprised, Lex.  We both know that I have some little secrets of my own."  He stopped at the window and turned back.  "Maybe now that you are laying here helpless, I can show you the real me and tell you what I really think."

   Lex took a few deep breaths.  "What ever it is, Clark, could we wait.  You need to help me get out of here before they come back to drug me again."

   "What's wrong with drugs, Lex?" Clark smirked again.  "You use to like getting high.  In fact, I'm told you could never get your fill of them."

   "Those drugs were recreational, and they almost killed me," Lex was growing angry with his friend.  "Come on, Clark, these drugs are to keep me under my father's control.  What ever they gave me the last time has made it impossible for me to move my arms and legs off of the bed.  Help me up."

   Lex held out his hand to his friend.  "Please, Clark."

   Clark crossed his arms and simply stared at him.  "Did you ever take a minute to think that your father might have the right idea by holding you here?"

   "He's keeping me prisoner, Clark," Lex grunted.

   "He's also keeping you safe," Clark added.  "Or perhaps he's keeping the world safe from you."

   Lex was able to roll his upper body to face Clark again.  He held his hand out another time.  "Please," he almost cried.  "I'll die if I stay here."

   "And you'll die if I let you out," Clark said sitting on the wide windowsill.  "For your own good Lex, you need to stay here."

   Lex fell back onto the bed.  "Please, Clark, don't do this."

   All he could see when he lifted his head were Clark's eyes and bright, evil grin among the shadows at the window.

   "Clark," Lex screamed.  "Clark!"

   The jolt of his own screams awoke Lex as the realization of the pain his body was in came back with alarming speed.  He knew that he must have been moving around a lot in his sleep, and he was now feeling the effects.  With his head still in a heavy fog, Lex began to look around the dark and empty room.  He could swear that Clark had actually been there with him only moments before.  With the affects of the heavy sedation it was not clear if he was dreaming, or if his friend had actually been there.  Yet, somehow, Lex felt that Clark's presence had been in the room.  

   He tried earnestly to search out his friend in the shadows, but after several minutes it was clear that all that accompanied him in the room now was the wooden horse from a Christmas long since past.

   The drugs were beginning to take affect again and the pain was minimizing to a constant throbbing as opposed to its earlier sharp, stabbing, and searing jabs.  Lex lowered his head to the pillow with a defeated sigh.  He knew he would soon slip back into the warm arms of drug-induced sleep, and he wondered if he would have to live with these feelings forever.  Lex fought not to close his eyelids, but alas, they closed slowly against his own will, and he slipped effortlessly back into his forced slumber.  The small amount of light that trickled in across his room caught the small glint of a droplet of moisture on his left cheek.  The small tear shined brightly across the blackness of the room.

   A performer with the big lips and very thin frame was on stage at the Edge comedy club giving the room his best material, but few people, if any, were laughing at his pathetic act.  It was visibly clear that he was shaking inside his purple suit with the thin blue stripes and a large green bow tie.  Even his bowling shoes did little to endear his performance with the difficult crowd.

   Chloe pulled her attention away from Clark, who had Salina Kyle wrapped around him, to take notice of the young man on stage.  "That poor guy is bombing big time," she said to her group.

   "Ah, yes," Morgan Edge who was standing a few feet away, said with a sigh.  "Such are the drawbacks of armature night.  You have about nine bad acts, but if you luck out there just might be that tenth person who blows the audience's socks off."

   "How do you make it through the nine bad?" Lana asked.

   Morgan gave her a big toothy grin.  "That is why we serve alcohol my, young friend."

   Chloe could not help but notice Salina who seemed to be whispering in Clark's ear.  "Do you two want a room?"

   Clark's eyes opened wide as Salina slipped her hand under his jacket.  "Miss Kyle," he gasped.  "I'm afraid you have the wrong idea."

   She pulled her head away from his neck.  "Oh come on, farm boy.  Don't you want a real woman for a change?"

   "I said no," he stood up as she dropped to the floor.

   "Why, you rude jerk," she looked up with a scold.  ****

   "I'm so sorry," he leaned over and took her hand allowing him to look over his shoulder once they were out of the room's view behind the table.  "Which one?"  He whispered.

   Salina allowed her free hand to rise slightly pointing to Lionel Luthor's hired assassin who was approaching the group.  "Him."

   The blond man opened his jacket and pulled out his pistol as Chloe turned to see what Clark and Salina was looking at.  "Oh, my God," she screamed.  "He has a gun!"

   The scream got the entire room's attention over the bad comedian who was pouring his heart out on the stage.  Summers heard the yell, but his gun was already drawn and he knew this would be his only chance at Morgan Edge, so he took aim.

   "Oh, my goodness," Lana gasped seeing that he was aiming at their direction.  

   Time seemed to stop while the entire room stood still.  They all watched in horror as he pointed the barrel and fired at Morgan, who stood next to Bruce Wayne.  Bruce had wanted to react, but found himself paralyzed with the memories of the last time he had face down the nozzle of a weapon.  It was the night of his parent's death, and the nine-year-old boy watched, as they were each murdered before his terrified eyes.  The child had stood motionless as the string of pearls coming apart danced in the dank, city streetlight.  He now found himself frozen in the same dazed-like state.

   Clark's extremely quick reflexes seemed to be the first to snap out of the shock and he knew he had to act fast.  Knowing everyone was watching, Clark dove at the lone gunman at normal speed knocking each of them into the thick crowd of people.  They rolled into the group with a great force knocking several bystanders off their feet in the process.

   "Clark?" Chloe yelled as they seemed to disappear into the throngs of people and a loud panic began.  Everyone in the room began screaming and running about as Clark fought to subdue the sniper.

   Morgan Edge had the reflex enough to dive away from the bullet as fast as he could, knocking himself over onto Lana and they fell to the ground with a thud.  He attempted to regain his composure as quickly as he could and lifted his heavy frame off of her.

   "Are you all right?"  He asked, helping her up.

   "Yeah," Lana tried to regain her breath.  "Did he hit you?"

   Morgan looked at his shoulder where a streak of blood seemed to be dripping.  "I got grazed, but I should be fine."

   "Mr. Wayne," Salina looked across the table at the young billionaire with the far away look in his eyes.  "Are you okay?"

   Chloe and Salina turned to each other with a puzzled look, as he made no response.

   On the floor, Clark continued to try and subdue the attacker, but was not making much headway through the maze of people trying to recover from their fall, and to get out the door as quickly as possible.  Summers had seemed to get him self lost in the large group.

   Lana kneeled at Bruce side trying to get his attention.  "Oh, my God, Bruce, are you alright?"  She asked, placing her soft hand on his face.

   Morgan jumped away from the table and seemed to disappear in to the crowd himself.

   "Bruce," Lana spoke loudly into his face again.  "Bruce, say something."

   Clark was able to recover himself enough to get back up to his feet as he searched the room for Summers.  It was Salina who looked across the large room and shouted to him.  "Clark," she screamed.  "He's at the door already.  He's getting away."

   Clark followed her stare to where the blond man was forcing his way through the congested entryway.  He knew he could not let Summers get away if he were going to get some answers about why the guy was firing at them.  So, Clark began to make his own mad rush towards the doors.

   Salina's scream seemed to get Bruce's attention and awake him from his trance.  He stood up quickly pulling himself away from Lana's grasp.  "He can't get away this time," He muttered.

   "What?" Lana asked as she fell to the floor again.

   Much to her surprise, Bruce made his way through the group quickly and headed for the door as well.  "Wait," she called out pulling herself to her feet and followed.

   In a far corner Morgan Edge met up with two of his security guards.  "Mr. Edge, are you okay?"  The first young man asked.

   "How could you let a gunman in here?" He ignored the concern and snapped at him.  

   "We have no idea how it happened, sir," the second man spoke.  "We are trying to get a detail after him right now."

   "Forget that," Morgan rubbed a clean napkin against his bloody arm with a grimace.  "I don't need the thug to know who sent him here.  Lionel Luthor is trying to give me a little pay back," he huffed.  "He has figured out what has happened.  It's time for me to enact the next part of my plan."

   "What is the plan, sir?" The first guard asked.

   "It's time that Lionel's secrets are exposed," Morgan gritted his teeth from the pain.  "It's time that the great people of Kansas know what their great benefactor has truly been up to."

   Back at the table, Chloe realized that everyone had left her to her own devices while they chased after the gunman.  She knew that if anyone could find him and still come out without a scratch, then Clark was the man for the job.  She felt that, in spite of his appearance, Bruce was also very capable of watching after himself.  Between the two of them they would never let any harm come to the prize jewel of Lana Lang, so she tried to push the concern for her friends out of her mind and take advantage of the situation to do a little investigating of her own.

   Using the distraction all around her as a cover, Chloe slipped away from the table and made her way down the hall where she was sure Morgan's office would be tucked away.  Much to her delight, she found the large door with his nameplate over the word 'private.'  

   Taking a deep breath she slowly reached for the knob, inspecting the emptied hall.  Everyone one was too worried about getting out alive and made no attempts to go down the service hall, in spite of the clearly marked fire door.  Chloe turned the metal lever and, much to her surprise and delight, the door was not locked.  Apparently Morgan had planned to step out for only a moment when he spotted Bruce and did not bother to lock his office.

   With a large smile on her face, Chloe slipped into the room and closed the door behind her self.  Once the door had closed, Salina Kyle appeared in the hall from around the corner and stared at the office entrance.

   When Clark had reached the street he searched the area and spotted Summers stepping away from the crowd into a dark narrowed street.  He was about to pursue when he felt Bruce's hand on his shoulder.  

   "Where did he go?" Bruce asked.

   Clark instinctively pointed in the direction of the street.

   "He's going for the Gotham reservoir," Bruce stated as he began to run.  "We can't let him get away."

   Clark followed quickly behind him in his fastest normal run.  He didn't want to reveal himself in front of Bruce, just yet.  The older man had not proven himself to be the most stable of persons, and Clark had enough nutcases who were aware of his secrets already.

   It was a few seconds later when Lana came out of the club and saw her two friends jogging down the alley.  She looked around and could not see Alfred or the car, so she decided to follow on foot.  She pulled off her high heels as she sprinted in the same direction.  It was unclear as to what she could do, but Lana knew she had to make sure they were okay.

   Back in Metropolis, Pete had finally made his way into Luthor's private office on the top floor of the Luthor Corps building.  He slowly entered the dark room that was only accommodated by the bright moon light outside of the windows.  He cased the office for a few minutes and then saw the door to the living quarters.  Pete made his way over to it quickly and opened the door.

   The same light from the night lit the new room.  Pete slowly made his way around the room knowing that he had hit pay dirt by discovering the inner sanctum of Lionel's office space.  If there were any secrets to find, then they would be in here.

   After roaming around the cabinets and draws of the few furnished pieces provided for the room, Pete saw another door and he rushed to it trying the knob to find that it was locked.   A smile wiped across his face as his instincts set in.  He had spent enough time with Chloe and Clark at the Torch to know the feeling of uncovering a mystery, and that small rush that comes just before the discovery. The only chore now was to get inside the locked room.

   "What are you hiding in here, Lionel?" Pete whispered as he pulled the key ring from his pocket again.  He fumbled with the keys looking for the right one.  He knew that the truth was only a doorway away.

   On the other side of the locked door, Lex jumped as he heard the knob being fiddled with.  The cold sweat returned to his forehead as he realized that they might be coming back to give him more drugs.  His dark-rimmed eyes opened wide as he attempted to force the grogginess from his head.

   "They're coming for you, again," Clark leaned his ear against the door with an evil grin.  He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

   "No," Lex grunted.

   Clark played with his head as he twirled his eyes.  "It's happy time again."

   "No," Lex groaned again.  "I can't handle anymore drugs."

   Clark tapped the palm of his hands against the door.  "I don't think you have a choice in the matter, Lexy," He grinned.  "The candy man is coming for a refill."

   Lex used his good arm and pushed himself up to a seated position.  "I can't let them do it."  With a heavy grunt, Lex used all his might and swung his legs over and off the bed.  The sudden movement and thrust of the force made him loose his balance and he slipped off the side of the mattress, landing on the cold floor with a loud thud as the cast from his leg and the one on his arm smashed against the hard surface.  Lex let out a yelp of pain.

   Pete stopped for a moment as he fumbled with the keys.  The door was thick and solid, but he could swear he heard a sound on the other side.  Someone, or something, was in the other room.  As to what it was, Pete was sure he was about to find out.

   Clark looked away from the door over his shoulder at Lex who was dragging his frail form across the floor.  The fog in his head and the two casts were making it almost impossible to achieve his goal, but finally he reached the window and pulled down the wooden horse again.

   "Where do you think you are going to hide with your little teddy bear, Lex?" Clark asked.  "They know that you are here, and they'll find you in a second."

   Lex looked around the room with a hastened scan.  "The closet," he announced softly.  The small encasing was on the other side of the bed, opposite the entrance door.  He knew that it had no lock, but it was the only place where he could seek shelter.

   "Oh come on, Lex," Clark sighed.  "They'll know you're in there.  Besides, you'll never make it before they unlock the door."

   Lex gave the Clark illusion a nervous stare from his crouched position on the floor as he saw the doorknob continue to be jiggled with.  He knew it would only be seconds before it was turned, and his jailers would return with more drugs.  Lex began to panic and shake in fear.

   The Gotham night was gloomy and overcast as Clark and Bruce made their way to the city water supply where Luthor's hit man had raced to.  The blond gunman attempted to hide behind the small service building on the pier at the mouth of the large, river-like bed of water.  He watched as they stopped in their tracks to case the area.

   Bruce took a few heavy breaths as Clark stood searching the area.

   "Which way did he go?" Bruce squeaked out between hasten gulps of air.

   "I don't know," Clark said calmly with piercing eyes on the surrounding area.  "Maybe we should split up and search."

   "Are you crazy, Clark?" Bruce gave him a look of disbelief.  "I'm not leaving you alone to find a crazed killer."

   Clark gave him a frown.  "This coming from the guy who froze at the sight of a gun back at the club."

   Bruce took a few steps forward, casing the pier.  "I have a few issues with guns in my face that I haven't resolved yet, Kent.  Cut me a little slack."

   "This is no time for slack, Bruce," Clark grabbed his arm.  "This guy won't think twice about using his gun on us now that we have him cornered."

   "You should listen to your young friend," Summers stepped out into the light of the street lamp aiming his gun at them.  "The only bad move he has made so far is following me here.  Too bad it will be the last for the two of you."

   "Step back," Clark whispered.  "I think I can get the gun before he can fire."

   "Sure kid," Bruce sighed, sarcastically.  "I guess you have super speed to fight with."

   Summers took a few steps forward until he was about five feet away from them.  "Let's not bicker boys, I have enough bullets for both of you."

   "Wait," Clark put up his hands.  "If you are going to kill us, then could you at least tell us why you wanted us dead in the first place?"

   Summers gave him a puzzled look.  "What do you think this is, kid?  You want the plot revealed to you before the murder then buy yourself a comic book," he frowned.  "Now, both of you walk over to the edge of the pier," he waved the gun in the proper direction.

   Clark looked over at the dark water.  "What for?"

   Summers gave him a grin.  "Call me a humanitarian, kid.  I don't want to bloody the docks with your dead carcasses.  Now move."

   Clark slowly began his walk as Bruce followed.  When they reached the edge of the docks, Clark suddenly doubled over as Bruce reached to grab him.  "What's wrong, Clark?"

   A cold sweat began to roll down Clark's face as he looked up at Bruce.  "I don't know.  I feel sick all of the sudden."

   "Yeah, you and the whole city of Gotham who has to drink this swill," Summers said with a hiss.  "Lucky for you, I have a cure right here," he raised the gun to Clark's head and fired.

   The impact of the bullet on the back of his neck in his weakened state knocked Clark over and he fell forward into the water with a large splash.  Bruce looked up at yet another gunman as still another person he had come to care about was murdered right before his eyes.  

   It had been simmering for all these years as his mind raced through all the pain and anguish of years of built up pain and grief.  Bruce could not believe that he was watching helplessly again as Clark's body sank to the bottom of the lake.  The sounds in his head became those of a rushing train as it sped towards him.  He could feel what little sanity he felt he had left slowly slipping away with the sweeping sounds.  

   Then a screech was heard piercing the darkness and the trains in Bruce's head.  They both turned to see Lana standing a few feet away with the same grief that Bruce had committed to memory of the little girl's three-year-old face on the Time magazine cover.  She, too, had watched as Clark was killed before her eyes.  Taken without warning just as her parents had been all those years ago.  Just as Martha and Thomas Wayne had been torn away from their son in a moment's time.

   Perhaps it was the sight of Lana's face or the memories of that fateful night that had changed young Bruce's life forever, but the world stopped for a split second and Bruce felt all the blood rush to his face in an anger that he had never thought he could express.  His hands grasped into tight fist and his teeth clenched with grit.  His eyes disappeared behind a shadow of hatred and only his large growling grimace was seen in the dim light.  With a swift motion that he had learned in his years of physical training, Bruce lunched forward and crashed into Summers before he could turn his attention away from Lana's scream.  The two men shot backward onto the splinter filled pier in a blur of motion as the darker man began to beat the lighter blond.  

   Lana watched in horror as the gun quickly slipped from his grasp on to the docks.  She had enough of her senses to rush over and kick it into the water before Summers could reach for it.  It was just then that she heard a splashing sound off the edge of the pier.

   Turning her attention from Bruce and Summers, she ran over to the edge of the wooden deck and saw Clark splashing in the water below her.  Her tears stopped instantly at knowing he was alive, but he did not seem to be able to get to the top.

   "Clark," Lana kneeled on the pier and reached down for his panicking hand that was splashing in the lake.  "Clark, take my hand."

   He was able to regain enough composure to reach and grasp her wrist.  "Help me, Lana," he gasped through lungs of water.

   "Come on, Clark," she tugged at his arm.  "You have to help me stop Bruce before he kills that man.  Help pull yourself up."

   Clark was unable to comply as he continued to flounder in the water.  He was too weakened and sick to be able to help himself.  His weight pulled heavily on Lana's arm as he went under for a second time.

   "Clark!" She screamed, as she was able to pull herself free just as he slipped away.  "Clark!" She yelled into the rippling waves.  She glanced over her shoulder to see Bruce was still wresting with the gunman who seemed to be getting the worst of the thrashing, and then turned back to the water to see the last of the bubbles disappear into the black water.

   "Clark!"  She screamed into the blackness again.  "Please, Clark. Don't give up!"

   Her heavy sobs were only met with the silence of the water as the sounds of Bruce screams and fist pounding the unconscious man, echoed behind her.  Lana buried her face in her hands and cried.

TO BE CONTINUED:

***NOTES***

Hey Gang, another Monday and another chapter.  I know I say it every time, but thank you all for reading and for showing enough interest to write.  Please keep the reviews coming. 

To Robyn:  Thanks for the review and I hope that you liked my take on how Lex's death was faked.  I did a little research and then I also used the fall back that the show gave us and created a drug in the Luthor labs.

To Ingrid mathews: Thanks for the kind words.  Poor Lex seems to get tortured allot on the net as well as the show.  As for Clark discovering the truth, the next few chapters are going to be a roller coaster ride for the gang, and all secrets will come out, maybe.

To Merrie:  Thank you for your faithfulness in reading.  I look forward to your comments every week.  As for everyone forgetting Lex, the reason for Clark and Chloe going to the Edge was to try and uncover some clues.  I am sorry I didn't bring that up again, but look for a special conversation on Lex in chapter eighteen that was written with your comment in mind.  I hope I remember to point it out.  I'm also enjoying working with Bruce and will be doing some stuff with the man who would become Batman that I was not even thinking about when I started this story.  So you'll have to let me know what you think of that when it happens.

  Thanks for the nice words on my other stories, too.

To Suz:  Thank you so much, and I hope I don't disappoint you.  Please keep letting me know what you think.

To MitchPell:  Thank you for your continued support, but try not being so hard on Lionel, the guy is trying to do the right thing for the wrong reasons, so he has it half right.  Of course he has allot of his own secrets to keep hidden as well.

   Death stroke is a piece of DC Comics history that I threw in for an extra 'fans' interest.  He is more associated with the New Teen Titans from the eighties, but I thought using an assassin who had a history in the DC universe would be an extra plus.  Sorry ifI confused you.  I don't think Pete knew anything, but he might be finding something soon.  The Gotham and Morgan Edge connection will become clearer next chapter, and I hope it will be worth the wait.  Edge is also a part of the DC universe that I added in.  He's a crime lord with a strong history in the Superman lore.  Keep reading, and the rivalry between Edge and Luthor will become clearer.

Thank you all again, and I look foreword to your comments on this chapter.  Thanks again.

Phaze


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**A Death in the Family:**

**Chapter 16**

   The light in the small business office came on with a slight humming sound as Chloe Sullivan flicked the switch on the wall next to the entrance door.  It took a few small flashes before they seemed to reach their full wattage, but the overhead florescent light lit the room perfectly.

   As she entered, Chloe noticed how unimportant the windowless office seemed.  It was about ten feet by ten feet and only housed a few old chairs, a steel desk several years out of style, and two large file cabinets, each a different color and neither matching the desk.  She walked carefully to approach the work area which was stacked high with old files and paperwork that appeared to have been here for a great deal of time.  Morgan Edge may have been the owner of his comedy club aptly named 'The Edge,' but he was not much for extravagance or organizing his work.  A fact that Chloe thought could perhaps work in her favor.  If he had been careless enough to leave his papers sitting around so easily, then perhaps the clues she looked for would also be among the piles.  Her only prayer was to be able to know the clues when she saw them, and to have enough time to find them.

   Chloe worked her slender form around the desk and sat in the large chair reserved for the club's owner.  She began to rummage through the stacks of paperwork that sat before her.  She moved one pile to find a small picture frame. 

   The picture was of a slightly younger Morgan Edge, a handsome woman, and an infant child in her arms.  They were all smiling and seemed genuinely happy when the portrait was taken.  Chloe mused over the picture a moment as she noticed the hand that Morgan had on the girl's shoulder held a wedding band on the appropriate finger.  It struck her as odd remembering back to the table when he reached for Lana's hand with his left.  There was no ring to be seen, or even any indication that one had been removed recently.  

   Chloe shrugged her shoulders.  'A lot of people get divorced these days,' she thought to herself.  Morgan Edge would only be one of the millions.  She returned the frame to its resting-place and returned her attention to the papers before her.

   The time had passed so quickly and Chloe was so engrossed by her work, that she did not heard the doorknob turn as it was slowly opened.  Looking down at the desk with great interest, she did not see as another person slip quietly into the room closing the door again.  The room's new occupant even had enough time to take a few steps in her direction before the movements was caught by the corner of Chloe's eye.

   "What?" she lifted her head with a startle?

   Salina Kyle stood a few feet away with a questioning look in her eyes.  "Who are you?"

   Chloe tried to look at ease, but fumbled with the files in her hands.  "Oh, hi, Salina," she stuttered out.  "We may not have been properly introduced out there, but my name is Chloe."

   "Okay," Salina slinked over to the desk.  "Now do you want to tell me why you are snooping through Mr. Edge's stuff?"

   Chloe placed the file down and gave her a large smile.  "I'm not snooping," she patted the papers.  "My friends seem to have left me for the moment, so I sorta found my way back here and then saw how cluttered this desk was, so I decided I would try and organize things to keep myself busy while I waited for them to come back."

   Salina cocked an eyebrow and looked her over suspiciously.

   "I swear I wasn't spying," Chloe added.  She then took a deep breath and decided to try and redirect the conversation.  "So, have you seen which way your boss disappeared to?"

   Salina sat on the edge of the desk and stared at her nails.  "Mr. Edge doesn't keep me informed of his coming and going," she sighed.  "He disappeared into the crowd and I thought it best to just come back here and wait until he needed me again."

   Chloe leaned back in the chair.  "What exactly do you do for Edge?"

   Salina looked back to her allowing a strand of her hair to fall across her left eye.  "I do what ever he wants me to do."

   The moment was heavy and uncomfortable, but Chloe knew she needed to keep her talking so the conversation would not turn back to her reason for being in the private office.  "Are you his mistress?" She blurted out.

   A snide smile came across Salina's thin lips.  "Are you looking for a sugar daddy of your own, honey?"

   "No," Chloe jumped slightly.  "I mean, I would never even," she stopped her words short as not to insult her the younger girl.  "Do," she attempted to sway the talk again.  "How old are you, anyway?"

   Salina stood up again and turned her back towards Chloe.  "I'm old enough to know that anything I have to do to stay with Mr. Edge is far better than anything I ever had to do to survive on the streets."

   "Are you saying that you were a hooker?" Chloe asked with a hint of disapproval.

   "Don't knock it, honey," Salina turned back to her.  "I know what men want, and getting paid is much better than loosing it for free."

   Sitting up again, Chloe placed her hands on the desk.  "Do your parent's know what you are doing?"

   Salina giggled.  "Sweetie, what I remember about my folks you can fit on the head of a pin, and the rest I would much sooner forget.  Besides, they gave up on me a long time before I gave up on them."

   "Still," Chloe added.  "You are very young to be living alone on the streets."

   Salina sat her petite form on a chair across the desk from her.  "You would be surprised at how fast the streets can age a girl.  It's sink or swim out there, and I learned to dog paddle a long time ago.  Now I have Morgan to watch over me."

   "But at what price?" Chloe let slip before she thought to stop herself.

   Leaning over the desk, Salina gave her a sly smile.  "We can't all grow up in Kansas, honey.  Some of us are born running while you country girls take your sweet time to blossom."

   "I grew up in Metropolis, Salina," Chloe told her with a firm resolve.  "I remember seeing girls like you on the corner from time to time, and I never could see how they could sell themselves so short.  Sleeping in Morgan's bed is only one small step and a wall away from standing on the corner."

   Salina shrugged her shoulders as she leaned back in her seat.  "I'd rather have a warm mattress under my back than the cold cement under my feet."

   Chloe allowed her eyes to roam the desk until she came across the picture frame again.  "What about Mrs. Edge?" She asked reaching for the picture.  "Does she know about your relationship with her husband?"

   The darker haired girl watched her with interest.  "That's a very old picture, Chloe," She told her.  "There is no Mrs. Edge, anymore."

   Twirling the picture for a moment, Chloe looked back over the short piles of papers to Salina.  "Did she leave Morgan for his wandering eye?"

   Salina sat up and reached for the picture in Chloe's hand.  "Mrs. Edge is dead, Chloe."

   Chloe sat stunned as Salina took the picture.  "This family portrait was taken only a few months before the Edge's world fell apart."

   "What happened?" Chloe asked with surprise.

   Salina stared down at the frame as she told her.  "Morgan's baby was born very sickly.  Mrs. E had been trying to have a child for years, and when it finally happened, she was thrilled.  Then, I'm told, the baby died shortly after from feeding complications.  The loss was too much and Mrs. E ended up killing herself.  Mr. E won't talk much about it, but I think she drove her car off the pier into Gotham City Harbor or something."

   "That's so sad," Chloe sighed.

   "Welcome to the real world, sweetie," Salina gave her a sly smirk.

   Chloe sat silent for a few moments not knowing what to say next.

   "So," Salina leaned in again.  "Are you ready to tell me why you are snooping?"

   "I," Chloe started, but then stopped her self before she could come up with any more lies.  "I came to Gotham City trying to solve a murder," she explained to a surprised Salina.  "So far the only leads I have lead to this club and your boss."

   Salina stood up and stared down at Chloe with a look of disbelief.  An angry look took her expression, and she placed her hands on her hip with a defiant pose.  "Now you look here, little girl," She started.  "Mr. Edge may be many things, but he ain't no murderer."

   "I didn't say he was," Chloe jumped up.  "I'm just saying that all the clues I have right now lead to this place."

   "You are crazy!" Salina screamed as the door to the hall opened.

   Morgan Edge stepped in with his two bodyguards in tow. "Now, Salina," He gave an evil grin.  "Is that any way to treat our guest?"

   Salina turned to her boss with a surprised look. "You would not believe what she is saying about you, Mr. E."

   "I know, I heard from the hall," He grinned again.  "You will have to forgive her, Salina.  Miss Sullivan is only acting as the puppet Lionel Luthor has set her up to be.  He is the one who has inadvertently sent her here."

   "But Mr. E," Salina looked puzzled.  "She's saying that you are a murderer."

   Morgan Edge walked over to the desk past Salina and stood across from Chloe with burning eyes.  "Then Miss Sullivan has done her job very well.  She came looking for the man who had Alexander Luthor murdered and she found him."

   Both Chloe and Salina's jaws dropped at the same time.  Chloe had discovered the story of the century with a confession added on for good measure, and all she could think at that very moment was that she would most likely never make it out of that room alive.

    The sound of flesh pounding on flesh was echoing through the dark night sky on the pier to the Gotham City Reservoir of drinking water supplies.  The faint thud of a bone or two being crushed under the layer of outer body fat could also be recognized, but Lana Lang, who kneeled next to the black water, could not take notice of the man who was being beaten a few feet away.  She was too busy watching the motionless water for any signs that her friend, Clark Kent, who she prayed was about to come up from the depts. The ripples had disappeared an eternity of seconds ago when he had gone under for the last time.  For some reason, the usually healthy and fit Clark, who was also a fare swimmer, could not swim to save his own life.  Perhaps the bullet that grazed the back of his neck has done more damage than she had feared.

   "Clark!" She screamed for the tenth time in as many seconds.  

   Lana dipped her arm into the water as far as she could.  Even on a warm summer night, the liquid was freezing cold and numbed her limb slightly as she frantically search for her friend.

   After a few moments, she hit what she thought were the tips of someone's fingers.  She leaned forward even further with her face only inches from the surface and felt the hand rising to meet her own.  Lana grasped onto the thick wrist with her small hand while the hidden person did the same around hers.  With all the might that she was not even aware she had, Lana pulled as hard as she could until the arm of Clark's tuxedo sleeve was fully emerged from the water.

   A split second later, his weary head bobbed to the top of the water and he fought to keep his mouth in the path of the flowing air.  His eyes were fluttering, but he was still alive.

   "Clark," Lana called to him again.  "Clark, don't go into shock.  You need to help me pull you out.  I can't do it by myself."

   Clark's weakened eyes opened slightly to look up at her lovely, fear filled face, but then closed slowly as if drifting away.

   "No, Clark," Lana cried as the weight of his body began to sink again.  "Please Clark, don't leave me."

   His body pulled her entire arm back into the water as he sank towards the bottom.  Lana fought the pain and bitter stings of the freezing water as she struggled to keep a hold on his wrist even after he had let her arm go.

   "No," Lana braced her head against the pier still holding on to her friend with dear life as the tears dripped off her face.  "Please, Clark," she spoke in a softer tone.  "Don't die on me, I need you."

   Just as the weight of the body was becoming too great and her arm felt as if it would be ripped from it's socket and that small voice of reason in her head began to speak the words, 'let go,' Lana heard the plunging sound of something else being submerged in the water only a few inches from her own hand.  Her vision was blurry and strained from holding her eyes tightly shut, but she allowed herself the moments need to open them and see what it was she had just heard.

   When her eyes opened, she saw Alfred Pennyworth laying on the same pier only inches away with both arms fully submerged in the same water.  She could then feel his hands following down her arms to reach Clark's hand.  Holding on one more second was sheer agony for her, but she knew she could not let go now.  Alfred would help her pull Clark up.

   Taking a deep breath, Lana summed up all the strength she thought she would ever have left in the world and used the small burst of energy to tug on Clark's arm one more time, raising him enough so he was in reach of Alfred's grasp.  She could feel a cheer inside her inner child as she realized that he too had a firm grip on Clark, and the two of them were pulling him up with a greatly reduced effort on her part.

   Lana stepped outside of herself as she watched Clark's handsome face climb out of the water once again.  This time the journey did not end at the surface, but Alfred was able to get himself up on his knees and pull as hard as he could ever remember having to pull such a heavy young person out of danger.

   Alfred was able to get a grip around Clark's chest and pulled the teen into his own body causing them both to fall back onto the wet dock.  When Alfred let the boy slip off of him onto his back on the splintered wood, he took notice that Lana was still firmly clasping the hand she had pulled him up with.  Only now, she cradled Clark's hand between her two.

   "Clark," she called into his closed eyes.

   "He's breathing," Alfred gasped for air.  "I will attend to your friend," he looked at Lana.  "I believe you would be best suited to aid Master Bruce."

   Lana allowed her eyes to drift from Alfred's stare to over her shoulder where she could see Bruce kneeling over Summers as if he were riding a pony and punching him mercilessly in the head and chest.  Suddenly the sounds of beating returned to her ears, and Lana's stomach began to turn.

   "Please, Miss Lana," Alfred pleaded.  "I shall make sure Master Kent's lungs are clear, but I can not attend to Master Bruce at the same time."

   A fatigued Lana nodded at Alfred and slowly made her way over to Bruce who was only a few feet from her.  She walked on her knees and made her way to his side.  She watched for a split second, and the look of anger and terror on his face were so consuming, that they made her wince for a moment.

   "Bruce," she spoke softly.  "It's over, Bruce."

   He continued to pound away as if her words were silence to him.

   "Bruce," she repeated.  This time she placed a gentle hand on his right shoulder.  "He's unconscious.  He won't be hurting anyone else tonight."

   Bruce Wayne lifted his right hand fist into the air over Summers slumped body for yet another time.  He held it in mid flight, hesitating as Lana clasped her own right hand over his with a soft caressing motion.

   His eyes stopped for a moment, and for the first time in minutes, he blinked.  The darkness of hatred and fear began to give way to the Bruce that she knew.  His teeth unclenched with a painful sounding slight snap of his jaw, and his right hand fingers began to untwine from their tightly rounded fist.

   Lana slipped her fingers under his and cupped them with her own hand.  She pulled the raging bolt of anger from mid air and gently eased it over to his chest.  Bruce moved his left hand from where it had been posed to strike next and placed over her hand that was holding his right.  She could feel the rapid beating of his heart through the fabric of the suit and shirt.  She moved her left hand from his shoulder to the opposite side of his head, and ran her tiny fingers through his sopping wet hair from the entire ordeal.  The hands on Bruce's chest were covered with the blood of the battle, but Lana did not care.  She had been able to pull him back from brink of total insanity to the world of the living.

   Bruce allowed his posture to slump as he looked down at the bloodied man beneath them.  He hung his head low against his chest.  "I couldn't save him," he murmured in a hushed tone.  "Just like I couldn't save them."

   "Oh, Bruce," Lana pulled his head to her chest.  "Clark is fine.  Alfred and I pulled him out of the water, and there was no blood so I think the bullet missed him."

   Bruce turned his face to her shoulder and began to shake as grief over took him.  His tears began to flow just as they had done on that faithful night thirteen years ago.  Lana held on tightly and allowed him to release his remorse.

   A few feet away, Clark was turned to his right side with Alfred resting Clark's back on his knees and lap.  It took a few strong belts on his back, but eventually Clark spit up a lung full of water onto the pier.  The action caused him to choke for a second and then cough taking in large gulps of air.  He began to flail his left arm and his eyes opened quickly to survey the area.  He turned his head quickly and looked up at a smiling Alfred.

   "Welcome back, young sir," Alfred commented with a grin.  "I believe you were greatly missed."

   Clark pushed himself up to a seated position.  "Lana?" he questioned.

   "She is very well and is, at the moment, assisting Master Bruce," Alfred allowed his gaze to turn to the two behind them.

   Clark looked around Alfred quickly and saw the back of Lana cradling Bruce in her arms as he still sat on the culprit.  His concern and worry were suddenly set aside as he realized that the two were having a surprisingly tender moment.

   Just as quickly as Clark had sat up, he fell back down on his elbow and the wrenching feeling he felt since the moment he went near the water returned with a great force.

   Alfred reached under his arms and pulled Clark up by his chest.  "Master Clark, are you okay?"

   Clark could feel his consciousness slipping away again.  "I need to get away from here.  I need to get out of these wet clothes and rinse off the water from the reservoir."

   "Of course," Alfred agreed lifting him to his feet as best as he could.  "I have the car waiting at the gate."

   Lana looked back and saw that Alfred was helping the staggering Clark towards the entrance.  "We can't leave right now," she called out.  "We have to call the police and have this guy arrested."

   "I'm afraid we have no time for legalities, Miss Lana," Alfred said as Clark slumped against his chest.  "I must get your young friend back to the manor and attend to his needs."

   "What about Bruce?" She asked, looking down at the man who was nearly catatonic with his emotion at that point.

   "We must get him away from here, also," Alfred warned.  "Whatever acts that the assailant had intended to perpetrate would be greatly reduced once the police saw the beating he received at the hands of Master Bruce."

   "But," Lana started.

   "Please, Miss Lana," Alfred gushed trying to hold Clark up.  "I am unable to do this on my own, and neither of these men are in any shape to stand up to questioning.  You must help me with Master Bruce."

   Lana thought to protest more, but instead looked down at Summer's bleeding body.  His pulse was strong, so he would be fine.  Once he did wake up, he would not be able to seek revenge tonight, so she decided to help her friends instead.

   "Bruce," she lifted his head to face her.  "Bruce, we need to leave now."

   Bruce shook his head slightly.  "We can't leave.  I've hurt someone," he muttered.

   "This guy will be fine," Lana assured him.  "We need to get you and Clark back to the mansion.  Clark is not feeling well."

   Slowly Bruce gave into her nudging and allowed her to help him to his feet.  As they were walking away, Bruce took a last look back over his shoulder as the battered and beaten body of his attacker.  He tried to feel remorse for what he had done, but all he felt was a swell of self-gratification.

   Once they were in the back seat of the limousine, Lana looked up at Alfred who was about to close the door.  "What about Chloe?" She asked.

   "I am afraid we have no time to search for her," he warned.  "We need to get the young masters settled in at once before any more damage or harm comes to either.  I shall retrieve Miss Chloe once that task has been accomplished."

   After the door was shut, Lana looked across to the other seat where Clark was slumped in the corner.  She held tightly to Bruce as he shook in her arms.  "It's going to be alright," she whispered in his ear.  "We're going home now."

   Across the way, Clark opened his eyes as the car jerked forward.  He saw that Lana was cradling Bruce in her arm tenderly.  He wanted to say something, anything, but instead he allowed his eyes to close tightly again, and fell asleep to his anguish.

   Pete Ross struggled, searching for the right key to open the door to Lionel Luthor's private bedroom in the personal living area he kept just off his office in the Luthor Corps building.  The light from the moon shining through the large windows of the parlor area was not helping his search.  None of the keys were labeled, and Pete knew the more time he spent in these quarters would only make his risk of getting caught higher.

   Then, with a sigh of relief, he found a key that not only fit in the slot, but with a slight twist of his wrist, the device turned in the keyhole.  Pete was almost beside himself with glee as he realized his accomplishment.  With a swift flick of his hand, he unlocked the secret door.

   He allowed himself to stand tall taking a deep breathe as he turned the knob.  Slowly, the clasp that held the room shut off to him retracted into the frame of the door, and he was able to push it forward.

   A dim light shone in the new room as he peeked his head around the divider to see what he could.  The dimmer switch was turned down very low, but Pete knew that an empty room, such as the last two had been, would not have a light on at all.  

   Pete saw that there was a hospital bed in the center of the room, and a few high priced and very technical machines stood on either side.  The bed seemed unmade and recently slept in, as the covers seemed to be tossed aside quickly.  An IV bottle hung from the head of the bed on a pole, but the tubes attached were resting on the blue regulator box on the stand.  Everything in the room gave a distinct impression that someone sick was still using it, and could very well still be here somewhere.

   Pete walked slowly around the bed inspecting everything as he went along.  He placed his hand on the mattress, and it was not warm, but was also not cool, as it should have been if it were left emptied for a long period of time.

   He spun around trying to see every inch in the dim light, but after very careful inspection, Pete found himself alone.  Who ever was here was either gone, or hiding.

   "They're out there," Clark, said leaning his ear against the closet's inner door.  "Someone is coming to give you more mind altering drugs to make you sleep, Lex."

   "Shut up," A groggy and weary Lex grunted from the floor under a few garments where he was trying to hide.  "They'll hear you."

   Clark chuckled at the sight of Lex cowering in the corner with the wooden horse Clark had made him press tightly against his chest in his wrapped arms.

   "What are you afraid of, Lex?" Clark asked.  "They've already done their worst."

   Clark squatted down to Lex's level.  "Look at you, guy," he grinned.  "The great and mighty Alexander Luthor has been reduced to a helpless infant holding his wooden toy as he cowers in the closet of his own bedroom."

   "Stop it," Lex frantically covered his ears.  "Clark would never treat me like this," he stated in a rushed voice.  "You're not Clark.  You're not even real."

   The Clark illusion smiled again and clapped his hands.  "Very good Lex, you must have been able to fight off enough of the drugs to get your deductive reasoning back."  He placed a hand on Lex's cast cover leg.  "Too bad this is the closest you will ever come to Clark ever again," he grinned.  "You belong to daddy, now."

   "No!"  Lex screamed as he used his good arm to cover his mouth.

   Pete turned swiftly.  "What was that?" He said out loud.  He had just heard a sound as if a muffled voice was calling.

   He traced the dark wall with his hand and Pete notice the wall on the opposite side of the room from where he entered had another slightly smaller door.  He smile at himself as he realized that it must have been a closet, and that was where he had heard the sound coming from only a second earlier.  Ever so slowly, he reached cautiously for the knob.

   Inside the closet, Lex could see the doorknob beginning to turn.

   The Clark illusion spun his head from his stare at the door back to Lex with one sweeping motion as he announced through his large evil grin and dark eyes.  "It's show time!"

   Lex used all his reserve energy left and lurched towards the door and grasped tightly onto the door handle.  He struggled to keep it still.

   "It won't work, Lex," Clark laughed.  "This is the only door in the whole building without a lock."

   Pete felt the door began to give way just as a jerking motion from the other side pulled it shut again.  The sudden motion startled him and he took a step back.  He eyed the door again, and the realization hit him.

   "Someone is in there," he gasped under his breath as a large toothy smile covered his face.  "I've found Lionel's secret."

   He stepped forward again and took a strong hold on the door and with a quick motion he yanked the door open finding much to his surprise that the resistance was gone.  The door swung open with a crash as it hit the wall.

   Lex coward in the corner of what was now the opened closet.  He had been able get himself up onto his shaky legs and held the wooden horse firmly in his shaking hand.

   Pete marveled at how easily he had been able to open the door.  He took a step into the dark enclosure.

   Lex raised the wooden object as the dark silhouette entered his last refuge.

   Pete turned to the darkened corner where he thought he could hear the rustling of the clothes and the distinct sounds of a heavy breath.

   Lex closed his eyes tightly as he thrashed his arm down quickly.

   Pete saw as a solid object came beating down on his head.  He shifted to the right.

   Lex felt the heavy thud against his hand as the horse made contact with another object.

   Pete felt the solid wooden device smash against the left side of his head with a loud grunt.

   Lex let out an anguished filled scream that sounded more like a grunt.

   Pete's mind went numb as the loud sounds of bells came rushing into his ear in a constant buzzer like sound.

   Lex pulled his arm back with the horse in his grasp.  Droplets of blood were dripping off of the toy.

   Pete looked into the blackness of the shadow with a shocked look on his face.  The blackness began to engulf him.

   Lex closed his eyes tightly as he waited for the worst to happen.

   Pete became one with the black as his body slumped to the floor.

   Lex heard the thud and felt as a head hit his stocking feet.  He opened his eyes again slowly, and looked down.  He gasped as he tried to recognized the face that was looking up at him but there was not enough light.

   Pete's open eyes stared up at him, but there were no motions.  Pete was lying helpless at Lex's feet.

   The illusionary Clark appeared out of nowhere again and looked down at the injured soul.  He raised his head slowly and grinned as his eyes disappeared behind the veil of darkness in the small space.  He spoke with a mocking tone.  "Oops, he go boom."

   Lex looked up at his should-be hero and then back down at his would-be hero, and allowed him self to slide down the wall behind him to the floor.  He held his hand out and released his grip, allowing the wooden horse to roll out of his hand onto the floor with a thump.  Lex pulled his arm back in close to his chest and turned his face to the wall with his nose pressed against the cool sheetrock.  Lex allowed himself to sob as the drugs took their effects again, and pulled him back into the void, which was sleep.

   Perry White felt as if he had spent a lifetime in Metropolis General's Emergency Room when he was finally released three hours after arriving.  The run-in with the large enforcer at the Daily Planet had left him with a broken left arm.  Considering the danger he knew he was in at the time, and the potential for more harm to be inflicted on him, he was thankful that he had come out relatively unhurt.

   His wife, Alice, had volunteered to come pick him up, but he had decided it was best to for her to stay home and guard the children.  There was no telling what would happen now that he knew Lionel Luthor was out to stop him from investigating the mystery of Lex's death any further.  As a reporter, he had faced threats on his life and health before, but few were ever as brazing as his new foe.  Perry wished there was more than the words from his mystery savior to prove that Lionel was the one who sent his attacker, but with out the evidence, it was his hearsay against what would surely be a firm denial from Lionel.

   Cradling his arm in its new cast, Perry made his way through the large waiting room towards the front door.  The police had already taken his statement and left him to his own care several hours ago.  Now all he could do was watch his own back and drag his tired body back to his car with a new indent on the door where his head had hit.  Perry sighed as the door hummed open to the night heat and he pulled his keys from his pocket.

   He was about to step off the curb when he heard his name being called.  The sound of his own name being called in the middle of the night so shortly after his ordeal cause him to flinch and a chill ran up his spine.

   Slowly, Perry turned to the direction of the sound.  He saw that a middle-aged woman was standing just outside the door where she had, apparently, been waiting for him.

   "Perry White?" She took a few steps closer.

   "Who wants to know?" He looked up from his pain.

   "My name is Maggie Butterfold, sir," she introduced her self with a cautious eye on the passer byes.  "I use to be Lionel Luthor's personal assistant."

   Perry looked her over.  "Use to be?" He questioned.

   "Yes," she nodded nervously.  "He fired me."

   Perry white took a deep breath that only reminded him of his cracked rib.  "Oh," he shuttered grabbing his side.  "I'm sorry Miss Butterfold, but now is a bad time for small talk."

   "I know," she cut him off with wide eyes.  "I heard on the radio that you were attacked tonight, and that is why I came looking for you.  I think my former boss may have been behind your beating."

   "You, me, and half of Metropolis think so, lady," he replied.  "But with my assailant dead and no smoking gun, all we have is conjecture right now."

   She let her head lower with her eyes to the ground.

   "I hate to be rude," he added.  "But unless you can give me some proof as to what we both know Lionel has done here tonight, then I have to get home to my wife."

   After a few short seconds of silence, Perry turned away and continued his trek to the parking lot.  "Thank you for your concern."

   Maggie raised her head and watched his back for a moment. "I," she started calling out to him.  "I can't prove that Lionel was the one who attacked you tonight, Mr. White, but I think I may have a smoking gun for you."

   Perry stopped in his tracks.  He slowly turned back to her.

   Maggie took a few steps and stood before him again.  "I may have a piece of important information," she said with a bit of uncertainty.  "I--," she stammered.  "I know where Nell Potter was the morning she was assaulted."

   Perry's eyes grew wide.

   Maggie's eyes drifted slightly down again.  "Nell was not in the parking lot, and she was not mugged."

   "And you know this because?" He encouraged her to continue.

   "Because I was with her moments before she was said to hit her head and slipped into a coma."  Maggie met his eyes.  "Nell was waiting in Lionel Luthor's office to have breakfast with him.  She had been there for several minutes when he finally joined her after coming in late."

   "Lionel was the last person to see Nell awake?" He asked.

   "I think so," Maggie nodded.  "About five minutes after he went into his office, he asked me to have the company nurse come up.  He said over the intercom that Nell had fallen and hit her head.  He also said not to call 911, but he would have someone drive here to the emergency room."

   Perry could not believe such a valuable piece of information was falling into his hands so easily, but he could not ignore the facts.  "Then what happen?"

   "Then he fired me," she said with a sigh.  "After fifteen years of service, I was let go because I left someone in his office unattended without his prior consent."

   Perry's mind began to turn in all direction as he rubbed his chin.  Then he looked at her again.  "You never saw Nell after you left her, nor did you see what actually happened?'

   "No," Maggie said with a sorry voice.

   "Then how do I know you are not just some disgruntled employee who wants to get your former boss in trouble for what he did to you?"  Perry questioned.

   "All I can give you is my word, Mr. White," she took a seriously hurt look on her face.  "But I think we both know that what I am telling you is highly plausible.  We also know that if Mr. Luthor would do this to Nell Potter, then my coming here has put me at great risk also."

   Perry White did not say a word, but just watched her body motion, which in all his years of investigative reporting was telling him that she was speaking the truth.

   "Mr. White," her eyes pleaded.  "We both know who had you attacked tonight.  Do you honestly think I would put myself in danger to tell you a lie?  Believe what you will, but you know that this is worth looking into."

   Perry allowed his stare to drift up wards to the large building behind them.  Nell Potter was up there laying in a coma that he was now learning may have been caused by Lionel Luthor.

   "There is one more point of interest, Mr. White," Maggie added.  "Nell's doctor is Phillip Burns."

   Again Perry's gaze met hers with a shocked look.  "Phillip Burns?"

   "Yes," she nodded.  "The same doctor who treated Lionel's son is now treating Nell."

   The wheels were turning behind his eyes again.

   "Don't you think that it's odd that the same man who treated Lionel's son would also be the doctor for his victim?"  Maggie asked.

   Perry held his keys up in his hand.  All his tired and bruised body wanted at that moment was to go home, have some dinner, and curl up in bed next to his wife, but the investigative reporter inside his head called out to him.  There was not only a story worth telling here, but a human life could very well be at risk.  A twinge of guilt also hit his empty stomach as he remembered talking to Nell on the phone the night before her attack.  He had never met the woman, but he used her fear for her niece whom she loved like a daughter to get her to go to Luthor's office that morning and to dig up his secrets.  The fear has always been in the back of his mind since that day, but now he knew that she must have accomplished her mission, only she never had time to escape.  Nell was in the hospital because he had sent her into the wolf's den unprepared.

   "Mr. White," Maggie questioned his silence.  "Are you alright?"

   "Yeah," he continued to spy the building.  "I think I have to do something," he said walking pass her.  "Thanks for your help."

   Maggie watched as he walked back into the sliding doors.  She wanted to tell him to be careful, but somehow she was sure that he already knew that.  With her task accomplished, she began her walk back to the parking lot.

   Her foot had barely touched the cement of the driveway off the sidewalk when a large black car pulled up only inches from her face.  She took a reactive step backwards.

   The back door of the vehicle opened and a large man in a black suit stepped out.  He left the door jarred and stood before her.  "Mrs. Butterfold," he spoke in a deep voice.

   "Yes," Maggie looked up not trying to appear afraid.

   The man reached for the door and held it open for her.  "Mr. Luthor would like to have a word with you," he then said.

   "I'm not interested," she tried to sound strong.  "I don't work for Mr. Luthor anymore, and I don't take his orders."

   The man turned his head to inspect the area for a moment, and then returned his gaze to her.  "I think it would be in your best interest if you would just get in the car."

   His words seemed punctuated by two other large men who appeared from the other side of the sedan and took on opposite sides of her.  They stood as a silent vigil as they waited for her response.

   Maggie wanted to move, to scream or just plain run, but she knew that in the end, Lionel would have his way, so she chose to slowly walk towards the car seat.  Each step became more intense and the tears began to flow with out warning.  If she had never been afraid for her life before, then this was the defining moment.  She slumped into the seat as the three men disappeared into another door.

   She sat silently next to the first man in the back of the car, and the doors had been locked when she entered.  Maggie looked over her shoulder through the tinted windows as the hospital, and perhaps her life, disappeared into the night.  She turned back and buried her face in her hands.

   The 'Edge' comedy club back in Gotham City had been closed down for the night after the mayhem from the earlier gunfire.  Most of the employees had gone home for the night, and all the lights that remained were a small bulb just off the small stage.  On the platform, a lone figure of a man sat sulking at the edge of the stage.  He had his hands wrapped neatly over his knees as he sat silently.

   The comedian who had been on the stage at the time of the riots still wore his purple suit with the blue pinstripes.  The large green bow tie had been loosen and hung around his neck as his slender form sought comfort from itself.  He allowed his eyes to drift around the room and take in all the dimly lit nuances of the place.  The young man had been a failure at most things in his life, but none of those other jobs meant anything real to him.  They were just nine to five ventures that helped to put food on the table.  They didn't mater.  All his young life though, his real dream was being a comedian.  Even after his own mother mocked and taunted him that he could never be funny, he held to his dreams.  Someday, he knew he would make it big.  Someday, he would be in front of a live audience and they would just love him.  That someday was to be tonight, and his act was destroyed.

   He had convinced himself that if he had been able to continue his performance past the first few minutes that he would have turned his life, and the act, around.  They didn't seem to like his routine, but he knew in his heart that it was because he had not been able to shake off the stage fright, but he was just coming to that part when the shot was fired.  His act and his life were cut short that night.  He still summoned up all the reserve he had left, and he had gone to Morgan Edge a few minutes earlier when he was standing in the corner surrounded by his guards.  He decided to be bold, and he asked with a determined look in his eyes to Morgan who was wiping something from his sleeve, "So, do I have a job, Mr. Edge?"

   The stare of distain and anger that he got back ripped at the young man's heart as Morgan tore into him and his pathetic act.  The tongue flogging went on for a good two minutes when Edge finally, in no unclear terms, informed him that he would not hire this waste of human flesh as a comedian if he were the last living person on Earth.  He then warned him to leave his sight at once.

   The bitter rebuttal had been traumatic on the young man as he disappeared into the shadows of the club and did not return until he was sure everyone had left.  Now, he was alone and miserable, as he had been most of his life.

   His mind was speeding through all the years of hardship and misery that he had faced, and it was then and there that he determined that he could not let Morgan's harsh words go unpunished.  He stood up slowly and looked around the room at the tables and chairs that had been upset and tossed around.  Bottles and glasses of all types and brands of booze had been thrown on just about every surface if the room in the Malay.  Edge had ordered his employees to leave at once, and leave the mess to clean in the morning.  He just wanted the building emptied so he could make his plans.  The young comedian saw this mess and carelessness as another opportunity.  One which he could use to get even with the man who had insulted him worse than anyone had done, since his own mother.  He had promised himself that one day he would get revenge on her, but first, today was Morgan Edge's turn.

   Slowly, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flipped the lid open.  He walked over to the closest table that had a tablecloth that was covered with alcohol but was one of the few still standing.  He flicked the old fashioned lighter with a picture of a joker card on the side, and then dropped it onto the surface, which ignited instantly.  He took a step back and admired his work that was already starting to set other portions of the room ablaze.

   "Say goodbye to your happy little haven, Mr. Edge," he grinned widely with his big lips.  "Consider this a gift from the clown prince of," he thought for a minute and finished, "crime."

   The young man could not keep himself from laughing as he turned away and walked towards the exits.  Perhaps he had embarked on a new career that night.  It didn't really matter, because as far as he was concerned, revenge was the sweetest crime of all.

   Her hands and feet were shaking, but Chloe determined that she would not let her new captor see her fear.  She sat in his office chair as Morgan Edge loomed over her from across the desk.  Her eyes danced in both fear and excitement.  She had solved the mystery that she had come here for, but the fear of not knowing if she would ever live to tell was eating away at her.  

   Even with one question answered and her fear threatening to lock her throat tight from any sounds ever being able to squeak out ever again, Chloe had an over whelming desire to know more; To know the whole truth.

   "You killed Lex Luthor?" She allowed the words to slip through her slightly quivering lips.

   Morgan lit a cigar and stood firm.  "Of course," he grinned.  "Then again you already suspected that, didn't you?  That's why Luthor sent you here?"

   Chloe's head was reeling from what she had just heard.  "Luthor?" She questioned.  "Lionel Luthor did not send us here.  If anything, he had tried to stop us at every possible turn."

   Morgan took a long drag and studied her.

   "Come on, Mr. E," Salina said nervously rubbing her arm.  She had been in this game of cat and mouse long enough to know that her own fate was as unclear as Chloe's at that moment.  Still, she pressed on.  "I mean these guys are just a group of kids.  They can't do you any harm."

   He blew a billow of smoke in Salina's face.  "I see you've taken a shine to your new friend.  You have the loyalties of a street cat, Salina.  You have no idea what it would be like dealing with Lionel Luthor if you took him on.  He is not above sending a bunch of children to do his dirty work."

   "Think what ever you want," Chloe replied finding her backbone.  "You may have some feud going on with Lionel for whatever reason you might have, but it still doesn't explain why you would kill his son."

   Morgan leaned on the desk.  "Because he killed my son, Miss Sullivan.  I have taken away from Lionel what he took away from me."

   Chloe was trying to keep up with her own thoughts.  She glanced down at the picture of Edge and his family.  "Lionel killed you infant son?"

    "Not directly, but I can assure you that my son is not the only person who has suffered at Luthor's hands," Morgan told her.

   "Okay," Chloe put her hands up to stop the talk.  "Can we try this with out talking in circles.  How did Lionel Luthor kill your son and perhaps other people in Gotham without getting his hands dirty?"

   Morgan walked over to one of his filing cabinets and pulled out a thick file.  He walked back to the desk and dropped it in front of Chloe.  He gestured for her to read it.

   Chloe slowly opened the file and began to scan the documents with Luthor Corps logos in the upper left hand corners.  "What are these?" She asked as Salina came around the desk and looked over her shoulder.  

   Salina pointed to a line at the bottom of the first page.  "It says here that these are some type of waist management receipts."

   "From Luthor Corps plant number three," Chloe read from the header.  She then began to leaf through the other pages.  After a few more, she skipped to the back of the file.  "These pages go back almost eleven years."

   "That's right," Morgan smiled.  "It took some spying and a whole lot of money, but I was able to obtain copies of Luthor records from as far back as the early nineteen nineties.  If you'll notice, all these records have the same dumping ground."

   Chloe read from the form.  "The Gotham City landfill."

   "Or as we in Gotham call Lionel's version of a landfill," he puffed on his stogy.  "The Gotham reservoir."

   Salina looked up at him.  "The reservoir is our source of drinking water."

   He nodded his head with a knowing smile.

   "Okay, wait," Chloe stopped to think.  "So Lionel was dumping stuff into a non-landfill, we still don't know what it was."

   Morgan took a deep breath and sat in the chair across from them.  "Neither did I until I got a large clue by way of a special news report over CNN last year.  Do you remember the story of a man named Earl Jenkins who took over the Smallville plant last November?"

   "Remember," Chloe sighed.  "I was a part of the story.  Earl held my entire freshman class hostage until Lex convinced him to let us go."

   "That's right," Edge smiled.  "I remember the hostage standoff.  But anyway, Mr. Jenkins was looking for a believed fictitious level three.  He said that Luthor Corps had been running special secretive tests on Smallville's very own resource that your people refer to as meteor fragments."

   "That's right," Chloe agreed with a suspicious eye.  "He said that they were using them in the fertilizer to help stimulate growth."

   Morgan nodded.  "And as in the case with all experimentation, you always have waste.  Particularly when you are trying to take something as solid as a meteor rock and make it pliable or converting it to a liquid form."

   Chloe's eyes lit up with realization.  "So Lionel was looking for a place to dump the waste, since the government has already determined the fragments to not be radioactive, they did not regulate the dumping of fragment byproducts."  Her mind began going over the scenarios.  "Even with all the strange events in Smallville, they have still not been able to link all these strange meteor freaks to the source."

   "But why dump them here?" Salina asked.  "It's not like Gotham and Smallville are anywhere near each other."

   "Gotham has been hit by severely hard economic times, Salina," Morgan told her.  "The city's board of selectmen was looking for a source of easy revenue, and Luthor provided the city with that money."

   "But a landfill is far from being a reservoir," Chloe reminded.  "Why would they dump potentially harmful waste into the drinking water supply?"

   "Because Lionel Luthor is an evil scientist at heart, my dear," Morgan replied with another puff.  "He wanted to study the long term effects on the human body, and he paid off a few less than honest men on our council to release the refuge into the drinking water supply.  Thus, he could further his studies, and no one would be the wiser."

   "Oh, my God," Chloe gasped.  "I can't believe that even Lionel would do something so evil."

   "So what did the water do to us?" Salina asked.

   "I don't have to tell you all the strange things that have been going on in the last few years around Gotham, Salina," he replied with a grimace.  "You have seen all the deformed children and those who are said to have special abilities.  They have even given them a label.  We refer to them as meta-humans.  Their genes have been altered.  Some from birth and some shortly after."

   "That does fit in with the Smallville meteor MO.," Chloe stated with a disgusted look on her face.

   "I have heard stories Miss Sullivan that would turn your stomach," he told her.  "The worst, being my own."

   "Your baby?" Chloe's eyes opened wide.

   "He did not live to see his first birthday," Morgan's face seemed to be filled with grief.  "My son was born with a birth defect that was most likely caused by contamination, but things were made worse because he could not drink milk or breast milk, so we needed to feed him formula made with city water that we had no idea was deadly for him."

   Chloe hung her head low at the thought of the dead baby.

   "The doctors had never seen anything like it before," he continued in a softer tone.  "We didn't realize it at first, but my son's body was becoming an amphibian creature.  He could no longer breath our air for long periods of time.  Our only hope was to place him in more of the deadly water which mutated him further until he could no longer breath the air or the filthy water."

   "Oh, my God," Chloe gasped.  

   "Do you know what it is like to watch your child die like that before your eyes, and not be able to help?" he spoke with a tear in his eye.  "My wife could not take it, and a few months after his death on what would have been my son's first birthday, she took her own life on his grave."

   Salina had to look away from the grief in his eyes.  He was her boss in every way, but a small part of her had come to love him, and the pain she could see was breaking her heart.

   "I did research," Morgan continued.  "I knew that what happened to my son was not right or natural, so I studied some of the other strange occurrences in Gotham, and found all types of freaks.  A boy who was born deformed like a crocodile, and another young boy whose body parts began to mimic a bird or penguin like animal.  There were hundreds of them, Miss Sullivan."

   Chloe sat silent.  She didn't know what to say.  What could she say to a man, a town, which had gone through such horrors that dwarfed Smallville's in some ways?

   "After years of research, I came across the Luthor name and Earl Jenkins's report, and I put two and two together and uncovered these files.  I knew I had to hurt Luthor like he had hurt me."

   "Lillian?" Chloe raised her head with a start.

   "No," Morgan huffed.  "She was long since dead when I learn of his misdeeds, but I can not be sure I would have gone after her too if her son's death had not done what my son's death did to my wife."

   "But," Chloe thought out loud.  "There was this whole terror cell that had a similar MO., and I thought they were the ones who might had killed Lex."

   "The terror cell was very real, but they didn't have the funding to pull off their plans until I helped them out," he grinned.  "I allowed them to do their thing while I made my own plans for Lex."

   "Oh, my God," Chloe gasped again.  "You funded a group of terrorists that were targeting your our country?"

   "I needed a smoke screen to cover my trail while I took care of the Luthor family," Morgan placed the cigar in the ashtray on his desk.  "The terrorist plot covered for me perfectly.  Even you fell for it."

   Morgan Edge stood up again.  "Of course, they were becoming a liability as well, so as the FBI began to close in on them, I had to remove them from possibly telling the police the truth about their other crimes and proving that they had nothing to do with Lex's death or linking me to their funding.  So I had to order their destruction as well.  They were all killed in their sleep.  A terrorist crime on terrorist criminals was done."

   "You are a very sick and warped man, Morgan Edge," Chloe's eyes got red with anger.  "I was actually feeling sorry for you for what Lionel did to your family, but nothing justifies what you did to Lex and all those other innocent boys who were attacked and killed by your terrorists."

   "I don't have to justify it, Miss Sullivan," he grinned.  "I only have to get away with it."

   "Boss," One of the guards whom was at the door called while looking out in the hall.  "The club is on fire."

   "What?" He bellowed as he ran for the door.  He looked out to the club's floor, which was already ablaze.  "It's that stupid joker guy.  He was upset because I told him his act stunk."

   "We need to call the fire department," the guard warned.

   Morgan looked back up the hall and then turned back to the girls.  His mind was turning, and they could tell that he was thinking something evil.  He finally spoke again.  "This is perfect," he grinned.  "I could not have planned this better myself.  I can't have these little ladies going out and telling the world what they have learned here today, and when the cause is discovered behind this blaze, I will be totally cleared."

   "Mr. E," Salina gushed.  "I thought we meant something to each other.  You can't let me die, I won't tell anyone your secrets.  I promise."

   "I would never trust a gutter rat, my dear," he smiled politely.  "You were a sweet diversion from my pain, but that too has come to an end now that I have my revenge."

   "You'll never get away with this," Chloe stood up and warned.  "They'll know something was up when they find us."

   "I can assure you that they will not suspect an innocent man, Miss Sullivan," he told them.  "I am a victim here.  So my plan to go under cover should the murder be discovered will not be needed.  You see, I will be so devastated by my loss yet again, that I will seclude myself away from the world and go into hiding for a few years and then when the time is right, I will return.  Only this time, Metropolis will be my new play ground, and it's great savior Lionel Luthor will be my doormat."

   "What about Gotham City?" She asked.  "Don't you want to save them from more contamination?"

   "Gotham City is as dead to me now as my late wife," He walked out the door picking up the file of Luthor Corps receipts.  "These will have to find their way into the hands of a certain young reporter over at the Daily Planet. In the mean time, enjoy your trip to the after life," he slowly closed the door behind himself, and they could hear him turn the key to lock it.

   "No," Salina screamed as she dived for the door.  "Morgan don't do this," she cried.  "Don't leave me here to die."

   Chloe ran to the younger girl's side and tried the locks to no avail.  She lowered herself to her knees and pulled Salina up from the floor.  "Don't do this Salina," she said softly.  "He's not worth it.  We'll find our own way out of here."

   The mascara was running down her cheeks as she looked up.  "You don't understand," Salina cried.  "I love him."

   Chloe didn't know what to say.  Now was not the time for one of her crude criticism.  She pulled Salina into her arms and allowed the young teen to cry into her shoulder.  Chloe held her tight as she looked down at the bottom of the door where the first trickle of smoke began to make its way into the room.

   Surveying the room quickly, Chloe could see that there was no escape route.  The two girls could very well die in that room tonight.  For the first time since she had met Clark, Chloe felt completely alone and helpless.  She said a silent prayer and hoped that somehow, for some reason, Clark would show up and save her like he always seemed to do before. Yet, in the pit of her stomach, a nagging feeling gave her reason to know that this time, Clark was not coming to the rescue.

TO BE CONTINUED

***NOTES***

Thank you all for your continued reading and support. I know I keep repeating myself, but I really appreciate it.  

To Ingrid Mathews:  Thanks for the kind words.  I love giving everyone in the plot something to do, so it's nice to know you are enjoying it.

To MitchPell:  Again thanks.  So I actually stumped you.  Wow I impressed myself knowing that.  As for the drugs, I am sure if you give anyone enough drugs for a long period of time, then they will have adverse effects on them.  Clark being Lex's tormenter is also another added bonus I came up with along the way, which will play into the story at a latter time, also.

To Merrie:  Thanks again and I hope I can keep your interest as this story begins to wind down.  Oh and I made a mistake on the chapter with the Clark and Alfred speech, it's actually chapter 17.  Enjoy.

To Suz:  Thanks for the interest, and you now have your answer to what is in the water.  As for Pete, he's going to take a few hard knocks before this is all over.

To Robyn:  Thanks for the agreement on Lex's death in Clark's arm.  I was very worried about it being believable so it's nice to know you thought it was.  I am delving more into Bruce and Lana's relationship in the next few chapters, so please keep reading.

To Aino:  Thanks for reviewing.  It's nice to hear when new people are enjoying.  Thank you.

Thanks to everyone for reading even if you don't review.   I hope you like this chapter as I went a little longer than I thought I would, but I thought it was about time for some answers, so please let me know what you think.

Best Wishes and God Bless

Phaze


	17. Chapter Seventeen

A Death in the Family: Chapter 17 

   The lights in the foyer of Wayne Manor clicked on a split second after the large front door had been opened.  Alfred Pennyworth was trying with all his might to maneuver the listless form of Clark Kent through the entranceway.  Clark had his left arm slumped over Alfred's shoulder, but still leaned forward so far that Alfred was carrying him under his arm.  His feet were moving in a swinging motion as it took all of Clark's energy to propel himself in a forward direction.

   Once at the foot of the stairs, Alfred placed his young charge down carefully and took a few deep breaths trying to stop the heaving motion of his own chest.  He knew that he would never be the young man he once was ever again, but he also had no idea that he could feel so old so fast.  The events of the night and now having to move the heavy teen were taking its toll on him.  He knew it was time that he hit the training room that Bruce had built onto the second floor of the mansion with all the new high-tech exercise equipment and aerobic training devices.

   Clark lay with his back against the steps looking up at the older man as he gasped for breath.  He wanted to move, but could not bring himself to lift a muscle.  He licked at his dry lips as a salty feeling came to his mouth.  "Shower," he managed to whisper.

   Alfred looked at him.  "Sir?"

   "Wash off this stuff," Clark groaned.

   "Of course," Alfred's eyes lit up.  "What ever is making you ill was in the reservoir water supply, and since we use well water here, then it would wash away anything the city water infected you with."

Clark forced his head to nod in agreement.

   "Clark?" Lana Lang came running in the door with a somber looking Bruce Wayne trailing behind.

   She kneeled next to him and touched his face.  "Clark, you are looking worse with every passing minute.  Are you okay?"

   Clark could do nothing but look up at her with the small slits of his open eyes.  He felt her warm and gentle hand slip into his as she held tightly to him.  "Don't do this, Clark," a tear rolled down her face.  "Don't leave me."

   "Miss Lana," Alfred interrupted.  "We must get Master Clark up to his shower and wash the contaminated water off of him."

   "He needs a doctor," she pleaded with her hurt eyes.  "I have never seen Clark this sick before.  There's something seriously wrong."

   Bruce stood behind them with his hands in his pockets just watching. 

   "First we must get him to the shower and I will call doctor Thompkins," Alfred explained pulling up on Clark's arm.  He took a look back at Bruce and Lana.  "This would go much faster if one of you were to assist me."

   Lana reached for Clark's other arm and began to tug on it.  "Oh, my goodness," she grunted.  "I never realized Clark was so heavy."

   The two of them managed to get Clark up to a semi standing position and turned towards the steps again.  Alfred leaned his mouth close to Clark's ear.  "You must help us, young sir," he stated softly.  "Begin to step up and we shall catch you if you stumble."

   In a misty haze, Clark nodded once and lifted his right leg slowly for the first step.  The action caused Lana to stagger a little and she used her free hand to steady herself against the wall.

   The first ten steps were agonizing and Lana thought she had reached her end when Clark's weight tossed her hard against the wall.  She felt her footing slip and she began to lean backwards.  Just as she thought she was about to lose her balance and go rolling down the steps, she felt a strong hand push against the small of her back and steady her stance.  Bruce Wayne's free hand then came around and pulled up on Clark's arm, which she had flung over her shoulder.  Lana looked back and she saw that he was positioning himself in her place while helping her maintain her balance.  She gave him a slight smile as she stepped aside and allowed the two men to continue with Clark on his journey.

   The walk had taken forever as Lana followed behind, but they finally made it through the master bedroom into the bathroom where they lifted Clark into the large tub and shower unit.  Upon the release, Clark wilted to the bottom of the tub and fell face down on the cool white porcelain.

   "What now?" Lana asked.

   Alfred reached for the knobs and turned the shower on.  "I need to get him out of his wet attire," Alfred announced as he tugged at Clark's suit coat.

   "Okay," Lana said leaning in next him.

   Alfred looked up at her.  "I believe that I can handle it from here," he told her.  "I think you would be of much better service if you were to check on Master Bruce."

   "Bruce?" She repeated.  "You're right," her words stopped short as she realized that he had disappeared just after dropping Clark.

   The water was getting all three of them wet since they had not pulled the shower doors shut, so her face was running from the moisture when she looked again at Alfred.  "I don't know," she sighed.  "I wouldn't know what to say."

   "Please," Alfred stopped what he was doing to give her a meaningful look.  "Master Bruce needs someone right now, and I need to attend to your friend."

   Lana looked down again at Clark who had rolled over on his side and seemed to be gasping for mouths full of the water.  She took a deep breath and rose to her feet.        

   "Okay," she stated with an uncertain stare in her eyes.  "Please let me know if Clark needs me."

   Alfred nodded as he got the last arm of Clark's jacket off.

   He had managed to pull the necktie off from around Clark's neck when Alfred felt Clark's handgrip around his wrist.  In spite of his condition, the grasp was quite strong and gave Alfred a jolt at first.

   His eyes were red and bloodshot with large, dark rings under them when Clark looked up at him.  "Please leave," he said with a horse voice.  "I can handle it from here."

   "I do not believe that it would be wise to leave you alone in your present condition," Alfred protested.

   "I'm fine," Clark put up his own defense.  "Please leave."

   Alfred looked at him for a moment.  He knew that this young stranger was deathly ill, but he could not deny the insistence that seemed to cover his face.  Clark wanted to be alone, and he knew it was not negotiable.

   "Very well," Alfred climbed to his feet.  "I shall give you fifteen minutes as I call Doctor Thompkins and check in on the master, but I shall be back and offer my help regardless of you acceptance or not."

   Clark could not even bring himself to look up as he heard the door close.  He rolled up onto his knees and began to pull at his shirt.  He needed to get the clothes off, but he could not allow anyone to see what his flesh looked like under the garments.  Clark held his hand up to the light and saw that he had the same grayish tone with the green spider veins that seemed to cover him whenever he was close to the meteor fragments.  He knew he could get away with it on his hands and not be noticed while they were worried about his health, but he could feel the same sensation had taken over the rest of his body as well.  He ripped the shirt from his upper torso to find that his suspicions were right, and his whole body was turning gray with shades of green.

   The next things to go were his pants.  A two-thousand-dollar suit lay in torn shreds around the bathroom floor, but Clark could not bring himself to care.  He kneeled nude in the tub with his head against the cool tiles.  With the last of his strength, he reached up and turned the water controls to their highest setting of hot and steam filled the room.

   At first the burning sensation made him flinch, but after a few seconds his newly delicate body adjusted to the intense heat and he enjoyed the small comfort that came to his tired flesh.  The gray in his skin tone began to lessen, but the pit of his stomach still called out with violent eruptions.  The salty taste returned to his mouth as he felt the lining of his throat begin to contract and his stomach started to do a little dance.

   Clark lurched forward as the sensation he had never felt before over took him.  He involuntarily keeled over at the midsection and clenched his stomach.  His body began to shake as the eruptions in his belly grew more violent and immediate.  His eyes became blurry and unfocused while his muscles felt like rubber bands.  When another severe eruption in his center point began again, Clark leaned forward, part from not being able to hold him self up, and partly from an involuntary thrust forward by his reflexes.  Then he felt it over taking him.  The rumble in his mid section was moving up to his chest through his windpipe.  He gasped, but no air came.  The rumbling continued up his esophagus until it reached the back of his throat and his very lungs began to hurt.  Then the salty taste began to be replaced by a vile, acid feeling, thick substance that seemed to fill his mouth.  There was no time to hold it back as his jaw opened wide with out so much as a thought, and the green and retched smelling, thick liquid spat from his mouth.  The head of the column of spew made a thud sound as it hit the porcelain next to the shower's drain.  The vomit continued for nearly twenty seconds when it stopped as quickly as it started.

   Clark slumped against the side of the tub again as the same rumbling in his belly began again.  He leaned forward again as he though to himself, _"So this is what throwing up feels like."  After a few more seconds of violent hurling, he was able to regain control of himself and he sat gently on the now hot bottom of the tub.  Being sick had made him weak, but he did feel a little better getting the poison out of his system.  He rubbed his face with his hands.  __"Vomiting is not good," he thought._

   The skin on his body was becoming its normal fleshy tone again when Clark inspected himself.  It would appear that he had made it through another crisis; only this one had left him completely drained.  All he wanted to do was curl up in bed and take a long nap.  He smiled at himself thinking that he had averted sure death again, but the question still remained, _"What was that stuff in the water and why would it have the same reaction on me as the meteor fragments?"  A new set of questions seemed to have unfolded, and Clark wondered if the mystery of Lex's accident and the contaminated Gotham water were related._

   One flight below, Bruce stood before the large portrait of his parents over the roaring fire he had started with the gas igniter.  He stared at the faces of the two people he had thought were his life and had been taken away from him so violently.  He made no effort to move or get comfortable; all he could do was to watch them as motionlessly as they were watching him.

   "Bruce," Lana's voice invaded the darkness of his mind as she entered the room.  "Bruce, are you okay?"

   He turned his attention away from the painting and looked at her with vacant eyes.

She placed here warm hand on his cheek.  "Alfred asked me to check on you, Bruce.  Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine," he said turning away.

   "Oh," Lana sighed.  "I guess it's a natural reaction for someone to tense up and turn away when they are asked that question."

   "Please don't analyze me, Lana," he grunted.  "I said I was fine."

   "Okay," she said, wrapping herself in her shawl.  "I just want you to know that I am here for you."

   Bruce remained silent as he glanced at her.

   "I know what is feels like to watch helplessly as people you care about are hurt or killed," she continued in her nervous stance.  "I also know what it's like to want to be able to do something and react.  You did that, Bruce, and now you are afraid that you might have gone too far."

   "Or maybe not far enough," he sighed.

   "What are you saying, Bruce?"

   "I'm saying that I may have lost control when I thought that guy shot Clark, and I overreacted when I saw you being affected by it, but," Bruce stopped himself mid sentence.

   "But what, Bruce?" She touched his arm.  "Are you saying you wanted to kill that man?"

   Bruce raised his head in an anguished fashion.  "I'm saying that it felt good to be able to finally do something about avenging for the harm done to someone.  I'm saying that feeling that man's flesh rip under the pounding of my fist felt good and rewarding," he looked at his bloody knuckles.

   "You're saying that if I had not stopped you, you could have killed that man." Lana finished his thought.

   "Not could have, " he returned with a gentle stare into her eyes.  "I would have, Lana."

   Lana turned away with a hurt expression.

   "You know where these feelings are coming from better than most people, Lana," Bruce took a gentle hold of her shoulders from behind.  "You know what it is like to have wanted to have acted differently when your parents were killed and done something to save them or do those things to save other people."

   "I know what it is like. I stood by and watched my parents die under the meteor rocks. I was just thinking that I wish there were some way that I could have warned them to move, or have stopped the shower even at three years old," she spoke as tears rolled down her face. "But it doesn't mean I am going to spend every waking moment out in my front yard with a metal baseball bat hoping to ward off the next possible rock from hitting anyone."

   "Of course not, Lana," he turned her around to face him.  "But crimes happen every minute of ever day, especially here, in Gotham.  Maybe it's time that someone with enough training and energy and anger behind his motives stepped forward and did something about it.  Someone with enough money to back up his punch."

   "That is not a quest, Bruce," she grasped his arms.  "It's a suicide pact with your past.  You are one man.  You can't wage a war on crime by yourself.  Those things only happen on television or in comic books.  No one can save the world, alone."

   "How will we ever know if no one tries?" He sneered.

   "But not you, Bruce," she insisted.  "You are not Tony Stark, you can't be some type of millionaire vigilante trying to right the wrongs of the world.  Those people are not real."

   "Please Bruce," she continued.  "Don't put your own life at risk just because it felt good to defend yourself one time.  Just because you were able to take down one man is no reason to think you can do it over and over again."

   He turned away and walked back to the fireplace.

   "Are you hearing me, Bruce?"

   "Do you ever feel like there is someone else inside of you calling to come out?" He asked.

   "Like voices in your head?" she questioned back.

   "No," he turned back with a haunted look.  "Like the real you that you were meant to become wanting to come to the surface."

   Lana gave him a puzzled look.

   Bruce could tell that he was loosing her, but he needed to voice his thoughts, if not for her, then for his own sanity.  He returned his gaze to the flames again and crouched down to be closer to its intensity.  "He's in there, Lana," he spoke in a very low tone.  "He calls to me every night, wanting to come out."

   "Bruce," she tried to caution.  "You're scaring me a little with this type of talk."

   He ignored her, for his mind was engrossed by his own thoughts.  His sight was set deep into the flames.  "It's like this driving force that has been guiding me since the day my parents died.  It is the sound of my every thought that has lead me through the courses of my life from my training with criminal law, to my interest in the martial arts and eastern philosophies."  He paused for a moment.  "The darkness inside of me calls out to me.  I can barely sleep anymore.  All I do is spend my time here, watching my parents eyes and trying to figure out what it was that they instilled in me that would make me want to avenge the evils of the world. Then I train for hours at a time to hone my physical abilities to their peak performance.  A few days a week I make an appearance or two as Bruce Wayne to show the world the play inside the boy, but all the while the dark calls."

      Lana sat on the arm of the sofa as she continued to listen.  Bruce was both frightening and fascinating at the same time, and she would not, or perhaps could not, pull herself away from the pain that was engulfing the two of them.

   "I gave it a name," he said almost mockingly over his shoulder.  "Most people have that dark place within themselves where they can disappear, but my dark place comes to me and it has become a part of my every living moment; both awake and sleeping.  It has become so over powering that I have decided to accept it and give it a name."

   "What." Lana asked hesitantly.  "What do you call it?"

   He sat silent for a moment.

   "Bruce?" She questioned after a few seconds.  "What do you call the dark place?"

   A small smile came across his handsome lips as he thought of his darkness.  It had become more than a place inside of Bruce, but it had become his friend, his brother and his soul mate.

   "Are you going to tell me, Bruce?" Lana questioned with caution.

   He pulled a small key charm from his inner suit jacket pocket.  The small silver object was shaped like the silhouette of a bat.  "I named it after something my mother once told me," he said softly admiring the object in his hand where Lana could not see it.  "She told me that even when the world might be at its darkest, and I had lost sight of her, that all I needed to do was remember that not all creatures of the world relied on their sight for the obvious. Sometimes they trust in the feelings around them, or their special senses.  She told me on my first day of school that even though I was out of her sight, that I needed to sense her love for me and know that she was never very far away.  To feel for her for her presence in the universe."

   "Did you feel it?" Lana asked.  "Did you feel her presence?"

   "Yes," his eyes became even more haunting.  "I felt it right up to the very moment she was killed.  I felt her presence leave her body as I held her hand on the bloody sidewalk that night."

   "I'm sorry, Bruce," she lowered her head in grief.

   "I was so young and innocent," he almost smiled.  "At first I thought it might have had something to do with her pearl necklace.  She loved that piece of jewelry so much.  My father had given it to her on the night I was born, and she said it was an outward show of her love for both of us," Bruce wiped a hand across his face.  "When she first died, and I felt her presence leave her body and me, my nine year old mind rationed out that the pearls had something to do with it.  So I worked diligently collecting as many of the small white pearls I could find on the wet and stained concrete.  When I had a hand full, I raced back to her side and I held my hand of pearls against her motionless chest and I whispered in her ear that I had collected her love again, and she could come back, but she didn't come back, Lana."

   Lana slumped into a seat at the edge of the sofa and wiped away her own tears.

   "I held onto those pearls for a very long time after that," Bruce continued as the vacant stare came back to his eyes.  "I would take them out of the small matchbox I had placed them in with the small charm she gave me on my first day of school that symbolized our special radar we had for each other. I would climb into my parent's bed every night crying myself to sleep, praying to God that I would feel her presence again, but I never did."

   Lana continued to listen to his sad story as she wiped away a few more tears with her shawl.

   "I tried for months, Lana," he spoke again after a few seconds of silence.  "I kept crying myself to sleep day after day until there were no more tears to shed.  I determined that she was not ever coming back, and I resigned myself to that fact and set my young sight on a future alone."

   "Is that when the dark place started talking to you?" Lana asked.

   He had to smile as he heard her gentle voice speak of it as if it were an actual person.  "It was a few years before I noticed that the place vacated by the presence of my parents was filed by a consuming void.  I was at boarding school in England the first time I remember feeling the darkness.  It was not warm and comforting like her, but it was consuming and filling.  It blocked the pain in my heart for the first time in my life, and I seemed to have a whole new focus for my mind, my body, and my life.  It began to lead the boy that was Bruce Wayne until he became as consumed and decisive as the darkness.  It was years later when I realized that this was my new mother, my new father, and the new me.  So I named it after the name my mother gave the small charm on my first full day away from her."

   Lana waited again for him to say the name, but he was not forthcoming, so she decided to leave the matter alone and tried to enjoy the comfort Bruce seemed to find from looking at the small silver object in his hand.

   His words were silent, but his mind continued with his memories.  He held the charm close to his face as me called out the name in his mind. _"I call the darkness Batman."  He thought.  The cute pet name his mother had for him as a child became his soul._

   After several moments of silence, Bruce stood up straight and walked over to the sofa.  He sat next to Lana and took her hand in his.

   "Bruce," she began.

   He held her hand slightly firmer.  "Sit with me, Lana," he spoke softly.  "Just sit with me."

   Lana looked into his big, sad eyes.  She placed her free hand on his shoulder and rested her head against it.  The two of them sat in the silence as the wood crackled in the fireplace a few feet away.

   The smoke that had been coming in from under the door in trickles had increased to small billowing clouds streaming through all the cracks to Morgan Edge's tiny office where Chloe and Salina were now locked.  Chloe tried frantically to block the smoke by jamming pieces of cloth and papers she found around the room into the cracks.  She was risking tucking her shawl over the top slit of the door when she looked over at the desk to see Salina sitting silent and sullen.

   "I'm going to need a little help here," she called out.  "If we are going to get out of here alive we need to work as a team."

   Salina looked up with sad eyes.  "What's the point, Chloe?" she sulked.  "Every time we try to bring ourselves up in this world, something happens to bring us back down."

   Chloe finished with the task and turned back to her taking a deep breath of the already thinning air.  "Yeah, and becoming a crispy critter would be a real downer for me. too," she huffed.  "But I have just had the biggest story of the century dropped in my lap tonight and there is no way I am going to die before I get to my lap top."

   "Don't you get it, blondie?"  Salina yelled spreading her arms.  "It's too late.  Morgan told us his whole story about killing Lex Luthor and his reasons behind it because he didn't intend for us to live through the night.  He knew that this building was going to burn with us in it, so he didn't even bother to finish us off before he left."

   "Thus giving us a chance to escape," Chloe pointed out with her own arms spread out.  "Haven't you ever seen a James Bond movie, or even Austin Powers?  The villain always makes the mistake of leaving the hero hanging in some dire situation in which the hero always escapes."

   "I'm sorry, Chloe," Salina huffed. "I'm not some Bond girl, and Morgan is no Mr. Evil,"

   "That's Doctor Evil," Chloe half-joked while tapping on the panel walls looking for a way out.  "He didn't spend four years in evil doctor's school to be called mister."

   "How can you joke at a time like this?" Salina sighed.

   "Because it's a whole ton better than thinking of how bad off we really are," Chloe replied.  "Besides, why are you sulking over an old guy like Edge who would treat you like dirt and then leave you to die?"

   "Because Morgan was all I had in this world, Chloe," Salina said, hanging her head low.  "He took me off the streets where I was turning tricks, and gave me three squares and a warm place to rest my head every night."

   "You were his mistress, Salina," Chloe stopped what she was doing and turned to her new young friend.  "You were some cute toy that he picked up off the streets and kept around his neck until he was tired of you and tossed you aside."

   "He loved me," Salina protested.

   "He used you," Chloe retorted.  "My God, girl, we were here three minutes when he placed you on Clark's lap and pretty much told him to have his way."

   "He was being nice," she said in a low tone.

   "He was being your pimp daddy," Chloe returned.  

   "Fine," a tear rolled down Salina's face.  "Think whatever you want, because it doesn't matter.  He's gone, it's over, and we are going to die."

   "Not if I can help it, little girl," Chloe shook her finger at her.  "I've been hanging around Clark Kent long enough to know that there is a way out of just about everything."

   "And where is Clark?" Salina asked.

   "He's busy," Chloe said with an uncertain voice.

   "He went chasing after a crazy man with a gun like the rest of your friends," Salina reminded her.  "He's most likely dead too."

   Chloe stopped her frantic search to look at Salina with a scared daze in her eyes.

   "Face it, Chloe," Salina continued.  "We are trapped in here and no one is coming for us, or even knows where to look if they did."

   Chloe walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders.  "First off," she said with a sneer.  "You don't know anything about my friends.  Clark doesn't die, and if there is at all a way for him to be here, then he will find us.  And secondly, I do not give up so easily.  You had a hard life and I am sorry, Salina, I really am, but there is no reason to give up the journey when the road takes on a few potholes.  You're parent's didn't understand?  Well, join the club little girl, because my own mother walked out on me when I was five years old.  No note, no goodbyes, and for sure, there were no 'I love you.'  So please stop sitting here on your tail feeling sorry for yourself, and do something to help get us out of here."

   Salina looked into her deep blue eyes.  She could see that a small piece of the hurt that was inside her own soul was also in Chloe's.  She no longer felt she had a reason or a desire to live, but Chloe did and she knew that her new friend would not leave without her.

   Chloe's stare was interrupted as she began to cough.  The smoke was quickly beginning to fill the room, and Salina knew she had to act soon.

   Jumping off the desk, Salina began pushing it towards the wall.  "Help me push this over to that corner," she tilted her head towards the right side where the two tall file cabinets were tucked up against the corner.

   Chloe did as she was asked with a wheeze.  "Why are we doing this?" She asked.

   Salina grunted as the two young girls maneuvered the heavy metal desk over by three feet.  "Up behind those file boxes on the cabinets is an air vent.  I think it's big enough that we can fit through."

   Chloe jumped on the desk first and began pushing the boxes off onto the floor.  Her face lit up when she saw it; a twenty-inch by twenty-inch air intake vent.  "It's here," she exclaimed with joy.

   Salina handed her a letter opener.  "Pry it open with this,"

   Chloe was choking when she reached for the metal blade.  The smoke was much worse in such a high corner, and it was flowing right to the now exposed vent.

   "Hurry," Salina warned looking back at the door where she could see the flicking of the flames just outside of it through the crack at the bottom.

   It took two of the longest seconds Chloe had ever spent, but she removed the first of two screws.  She went to unscrew the second bolt, but instead decided to pull at the crate and yanked the second screw out of the dry wall.  "I got it!" She tried to yell, but lost her breath.

   Salina was up on the desk at that point and pushing her.  "Go," she was screaming.

   Chloe looked back with her eyes watering up from the smoke.  "You lead the way.  You know this club better than I do."

   Salina had to smile as she choked back a cough.  "You don't trust me to follow, do you?"

   Chloe jumped up onto the file cabinet a few inches out of the way and held out her hand with a smile.  "Friends don't follow or lead," she said.  "They go together."

   Salina smiled back and took her hand.  She then slipped her slender form into the vent and began to work her way through the maze.

   Chloe readied herself to follow and took one look back.  Her shawl over the door was beginning to burn up, and the flames were making their way into the room.  She took a quick gulp of the smoky air and climbed into the shaft a few feet behind Salina.

   When Clark came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a large towel after showering himself off, he found a new pair of silk pajamas with his clean underwear and a pair of socks laid out on the bed.  Feeling better but still very tired, Clark quickly put the cloths on before Alfred, who had promised to come back, arrived.  After getting dressed he slipped into the bed and heard a gentle knocking at the door.

   "Come in," he called.

   The door opened slowly and in stepped Alfred with a tray in his hands.  "Are you feeling better, Master Clark?"

   Clark smiled weakly up at him.  "Yeah, I think washing off the stuff and getting most of it out of my system must have helped.

   "Indeed," Alfred gave him a grin as he gingerly placed the tray with the legs folded down over Clark's lap.  "Doctor Thompkins was unable to come tonight.  She is working at the hospital tending a patient, but said to call if we should require her assistance before morning."

   "I don't think that will be necessary," Clark grunted slightly as he nuzzled his back into the thick pillows to sit up.  "I'm feeling much better.  I just need to sleep and let the rest of the junk work through my system."

   "Very well," Alfred sat next to him on the bed.  He poured some warm water from a teapot into a cup on the tray.  "In the mean time, this gentle blend of herb teas should help to settle your stomach."

   Clark looked in the cup when Alfred handed it to him.  "More green stuff," he grimaced handing the cup back.  "Thanks for the offer, Alfred, but I've spent the last half hour watching green stuff come out of my body, and I don't think I could handle any more going in."

   "Of course," Alfred took the cup and placed it back on the tray and slipped the tray off his lap onto the nightstand.  "Perhaps I shall leave this here for the night, should you be more receptive during the remainder of the evening."

   "Thanks, Alfred," Clark turned to see his caretaker in the dim light.  "You are a great host, but I just need to sleep this stuff off for now."

   "I understand," Alfred placed his hand on Clark's forehead.  "It would appear that your fever has diminished considerably.  I do believe you will be well by morning."

   "Has anyone heard from Chloe?" Clark asked.

   "No," Alfred replied pulling something from the tray. "Now that you are better and the master seems to have settled in for the evening, I shall take a jaunt out to the city and retrieve our curious friend."

   Clark grinned at the description of Chloe.

   Alfred made his way back to the bed and rested a small dishtowel on Clark's lap.  "I took the liberty of retrieving your wallet from the dinner jacket and dried the items off as best as I could with this towel."

   Clark flipped the top layer of cloth to find the few things he owned spaced neatly on the towel.  Including his school card, library card, license, and a few pictures, along with the four dollars and thirteen cents he now had to his name.

   Alfred gently picked up the three pictures and looked at them.  "You have a very handsome family, Master Clark," he said holding up the picture of Clark and his folks.  "They appear to be very much caring of you."

   "Ma and Pa are the greatest," Clark smiled with weary eyes.  "Although my Dad would get a real hoot out of seeing me in this set up."

   "Indeed," Alfred raised an eyebrow.  "These would be your friends?" he then held up a picture of Clark, Chloe, Lana, and Pete taken at the Talon a few months earlier.

   "Yeah," Clark yawned with a gentle nod.  "You know Chloe and Lana, and the guy is Pete Ross.  We've been friends since I can remember.  He's away at youth camp right now."

   Alfred looked at the third picture, but did not show it to Clark.  Clark noticed that it seemed to make Alfred slightly uncomfortable.

   "What is it?" Clark reached out his hand and took the small picture.  He had forgotten he had it, and the emotions flooded his tired mind as he looked on the two smiling faces in the portrait.

   "I have seen Mr. Luthor's picture before," Alfred said softly as Clark stared at the card.  "He was rather strikingly handsome."

   "Yeah," Clark whispered.  "He was also a great guy."

   Alfred waited for a few minutes as Clark continued to look at the picture, all the while struggling to keep his eyes open.

   "He looked happy," Alfred finally commented.

   "He was," Clark gave a weary smile.  "My mother took this picture of us last Christmas morning.  He spent the night at my house and after only a few hours of sleep, he wiped the floor with me playing computer games.  We just had a great time being together and he really enjoyed a down home Christmas breakfast with my folks and me.  My Mom even surprised him with a home made fruitcake of his own for Christmas."

   "Mister Luthor enjoyed being with your family, I take it?"  Alfred asked.

   "Lex said that us Kents were like the family he always wanted but never had with his father," Clark explained.  "He and my Dad never really got along, but I tried to invite Lex out to the farm as often as I could get away with.  He was the big brother I never had."

   Alfred noticed as Clark turned his head away slightly when a tear began to roll down his face.

   Alfred placed his hand over Clark's.  "You miss him dearly, don't you?"

   "I keep screwing up, Alfred," Clark sniffed.  "I came here to try and solve the mystery of what really happened to him, and all I do is lounge around this mansion and then almost get myself killed.  Lex is gone and I can't even bring him back."

   "The dead are not required to come back, Master Clark," Alfred said with a puzzled look.

   Clark was tired and drawn when he looked into Alfred's eyes.  "I heard his voice on the phone, Alfred," Clark said softly.  "Three weeks after he died, I heard his voice asking me for help, and I have not been able to do a thing to help him since."

   The wheels in Alfred's mind were now turning.  "You believe your friend Lex to be alive?"

   Clark pushed his head deeper into the pillows.  "I'm not sure," he groaned.  "That's why I have to find out what really happened to him.  If he is alive, then Lex is counting on me."

    Alfred gathered up the belongings on Clark's lap and wrapped them up in the towel again.  He walked them over to the dresser a few feet away and placed them on top of it.  "I believe if Mister Luthor is alive, then he has not chosen a more suitable friend to place his fate in, Master Clark."

   He turned back towards the bed.  "I do believe that regardless of his where abouts in this life, or the hereafter, you shall find him."

   Clark laid quietly in the bed with the picture of he and Lex still in his grasp.  Taking a few steps closer, Alfred could see that the young man had drifted off to sleep and was no longer able to hear his reassurances.  

   He approached the bed and pulled the blankets up closer to Clark's chest as Clark moaned slightly dropping the picture on the sheets.  He may have been better, but Alfred knew that Clark's allergic reaction to the water was still bothering him.  He patted the younger man's head lightly as his free hand reached for the portrait.  He took a long look at the two happy young men and smiled as he remembered his own teen years.  Then he thought of how there were no pictures of Bruce with a genuine smile in his teenaged photos.  A gentle sigh released from Alfred's lips as he tenderly placed the picture on the nightstand and leaned it against the teapot.  He knew that these smiling faces would be the first things that Clark would want to see in the morning.

   "Sleep well, Master Clark," Alfred spoke softly, turning off the light on the nightstand.  "Your journey continues yet another day."

   The phone was ringing by the time Alfred made his way to the foyer of the mansion.  "Wayne residence," he spoke strongly.  "No sir, Mr. Wayne has retired for the evening and Mr. Edge is not here.  I believe the master last saw him at the club earlier tonight."

   Alfred paused on the other end as the voice told him something.

   "A fire?" he repeated and paused.  Then a look of fear came over his face as he gasped.  "Oh, dear, no."

   The tunnel that he seemed to be trapped in was endless for Pete Ross as he struggled to fight his way back to consciousness.  After what seemed like forever, he finally found his way back to the waking world.  A matter, he thought, he was very sure he wanted, until the brutal headache became more prominent in his life.

   By the time he opened his eyes, Pete could barely focus them at all.  The whole world around him was still dark, not because of his closed eyes, but because he was in a dark place.  Pete struggled to remember where he was, and it hit him almost as hard as the headache did.  He was in the Luthor Corps building in Metropolis, inside Lionel Luthor's inner sanctum.  He was in the private living quarters off of Lionel's office.  It was all coming back to him like the throbbing pain in his temple.  

   Pete had heard a sound in the closet, and when he looked in, something solid came crashing down on his head.  There was someone in the closet with him, and he had been attacked.  The question was, was his attacker still in the dark enclosure with him or not?

   Reaching slowly for his temple, as not to alarm his assailant, Pete could feel a warm liquid running down the side of his head.  He slowly lowered his hand to his mouth and touched his finger to his tongue.  The shock startled him as he realized that this was blood, and judging from the pain, it was his blood.

   Then he heard a noise a few inches away.  Something or someone was moving just behind his head.  His attacker was still there.

   Slowly he placed his palms firmly against the floor and lifted his ailing body with great ease.  The attacker seemed to cower more without attempting to strike again.

   "It's okay," Pete said softly against the throbbing sounds of his own voice echoing in his ear.  "I'm not going to hurt you."

   He could see a leg wearing a pajama bottom through the shadows of the closet, lit from the dim light in the room beyond.

   "I'm Pete Ross," he continued to speak firmly in simple and soft words.  "I think I can help you.  Please don't be afraid."

   The leg pulled itself tightly into the shadow.

   "I want to help you," Pete repeated.  "Will you let me help you?"

   The shadow whimpered.

   "Let me help you," Pete sat up and held his hand out into the darkness.  "Take my hand and I'll take you somewhere safe."

   Pete waited a few seconds and was startled when he felt a hand slip into his.  He fought his reaction to pull back, but held tightly to the hand.  "That's right," he smiled which only made the pressure to his temple throb all the more.  "I'll take you somewhere safe,"

   The figure began to emerge from the shadow as Pete continued to smile.  "That's right," he said beaming at his own achievement.  "Come with me," and then his eyes jumped opened and his jaw drop as he saw who it was in the dark, "Mister Luthor?"

   A very frightened Lionel Luthor wearing pajamas and holding a baseball bat emerged from the cloakroom.  Pete pulled on his hand as the older Luthor followed, somewhat reluctantly.

   "Mr. Luthor?" Pete gasped again.  "What are you doing hiding in your closet?"

   "Lex is dead," Lionel stammered.  "All the Luthors are dying, and death is looking for me."

   Pete watched in major confusion as Lionel huddled himself again against the wall as the baseball bat with a trickle of blood on it dropped at his side.

   Elsewhere in the building, the storage closet was opened quickly and Lex Luthor was tossed carelessly to the floor with a yelp of pain from being man handled.  One of the two men entered the small, dimly lit enclosure with a sour look on his face.

   "You're more trouble than you are worth, Lex," Randolph growled standing over his charge.  "It's bad enough someone broke into the building, but you have to go and assault them.  Do you realize you might have killed a man?"

   Lex didn't say a word.  He curled himself up as best as he could on the floor next to the mop bucket with his two cast covered limbs making it difficult.

   "You are such a waist, Luthor," Randolph huffed dropped the bloody wooden horse next to him.  "Now try and stay silent in here while I go clean up your mess, and the nurse will be in a few minutes with your dream world medication.  I just hope this time you stay there."

   Lex reached quickly for the horse as Randolph stormed out, slamming the door behind him self.  Lex held to his new security blanket with dear life and rubbed it against his face.  The small trail of blood left by Pete was now across his left cheek.

   "What was that all about?" A booming voice interrupted the silence.

   Lex looked up at the gloating face of Clark looming over him.

   "Geesh, Lex," Clark sighed with frustration.  "Someone comes to visit you and you attack them."

   "I thought it was the nurse with more drugs," Lex defended himself.  "You told me it was the nurse."

   "I'm a figment of your whacked out mind, Lex," Clark reminded him.  "Why would you listen to me?  That guy could have been your savior."

   "Don't you think I know that?" Lex said looking up with blood shot eyes.

   "Well, I think that whoever that was back there may have been your last chance," the illusion said.  "Now that your old man knows how easy it is to get you, he is going to keep you under lock and key with a higher level of security."

   The fake Clark walked over to the door as if in thought and then turned back.  "What if that guy you hit was your friend Clark?" He grinned widely.  "What if you killed him, Lex?  What if you killed your only chance of escape?"

   "No, don't say that!" Lex screamed covering his ears.  "I don't want you here anymore.  Just go away."

   Clark crouched down in front of Lex.  "You know I can't do that Lex.  I'm a part of you remember?"

   "I don't want you," Lex said as he thought he would loose his mind if he had to deal with this hologram again.  "Please, go away."

   Clark stood up again and looked down at him.  "Okay Lex, have it your way, but after the first few weeks of your father keeping you locked away, you'll be begging for me to come back."

   "No," Lex shook his head vigorously.  "Just go away and stay gone."

   "Alright," Clark shrugged his shoulders.  "But I'll be back soon enough."  He took one last look down at Lex.  "Too bad you couldn't make a run for it when you had your chance a few days ago.  With that cast on, you are as helpless as a kitten."

   With his final words said, the illusion of Clark Kent disappeared into the darkness of the room.  It was then that Lex realized that he was all alone, but helpless.  He stared down at the cast on his right leg with contempt.

   "I need to get out of here," he thought out loud.  "I may have killed Clark and there's no one else who would save me.  I need to save myself."

   He looked around his small confines and came to a conclusion.  The cast was stopping him from running, so it would have to go.  His only question was how.

   When his hand came across the wooden horse on his lap, Lex knew he had found his tool.  Perhaps it was karma or fate that allowed him to make the one request of his father to bring him the treasured gift from his only real friend, but Lex knew that one way or another, Clark would help him make his escape.

   Picking up the solid wood object as high as his good right arm would allow for him to raise it over the cast with the sharper hind side of the horse facing down, Lex thrust the toy as hard as he could down on the cast.  The sudden strike echoed pain through his body and he lurched forward with agony.  After a few seconds of rest, he leaned back on the wall and looked at the tiny cracks he had begun to make in the plaster.  He realized that his plan was working, and he had to continue trying.  His hand was shaky the second time he raised the horse, but he was determined to free himself of the cast prison tonight. So mustering up all his resolve, he allowed his arm to thunder down again with the tool making another direct hit on the cast. It actually began to splinter and small pieces flew in every direction as a large divide began to form down the center.  The jolt was not as shocking a second time, but the pain became unbearable.  Yet, still Lex grit his teeth and held the horse over his head again.  The third strike sent such great shards of pain up his leg into his very skull that he felt the world beginning to go black for a moment, but Lex fought the urge to pass out and forced himself conscious.  

   He took several deep breaths as tears from the pain escaped his eyes, but after a twenty second delay, Lex picked up the tattered and bruised horse and held it over his head.  For the first time in his life that he could remember, Lex found himself praying to a God he was not even sure he believed in.  He closed his eyes tightly and with a loud scream, he brought the striking tool down with the greatest amount of force he could work up.  The anguishing act continued for several more minutes as he promised himself to be released from the plaster prison that very night.

   Clark had been asleep only several minutes when he began to cough and his sudden choking attack woke him from his slumber.  His eyes open widely as he realized he could not take another gulp of air.  Sitting up sharply, he forced himself to breathe again with a loud cough that cleared his throat.  When he removed his hand, he saw that it was cover by his rich dark red blood.  He turned quickly and saw that the fluid also covered his pillow and the entire front of his pajamas were sprinkled red.

   "Oh, my God," he gasped tossing off the blankets.  He placed his sock covered feet on the cool floor and jumped out of bed and started to walk toward the bathroom.  He had not walked three feet when a sharp pain came to his right side and Clark doubled over in the worst pain he had ever felt.  He dropped to the floor with a thud and rolled up in the fetal position.  Then came the cold sweat and the violent shakes.

   "Dear God," Clark moaned.  "It's in my system.  The pollutant is in my blood stream."  He jerked as he fought off another attack of the sharp pain.  He gasped for air as he felt more blood coming up from his lungs.

   _"Help me, Lord," he cried in his head, since he could no longer work up enough of a breath to speak.  __"Help me."_

   The sharp pain subsided for a moment, but the shakes over took Clark as he struggled to remain conscious.  Trying to let out even the smallest of cries became an impossible task for him as he pulled his knees up close to his chest.  After only a few seconds of relief, he could feel another sharp pain coming on, this time it was coming from his left side.  Clark clenched at the bedspread he had unintentionally pulled along with him as he got out of the bed.  He nuzzled the fabric against his chest as it was being pulled from the mattress and released a silent scream into it.

   The world was no longer one of colors for Clark as everything went black and he gave into the darkness that engulfed him.

   Alfred made a solemn entrance into the study to find Bruce and Lana sitting silently before the fire.  They were looking deep into each other's eyes as their lips moved closer, and it was then that Alfred chose to clear his throat to make his presence known.

   Bruce looked up with a startled stare at his faithful servant.  "What is it, Alfred?  Is Clark alright?"

   Alfred nodded.  "I have just received an unsettling phone call," he took a deep breath as he continued.  "It would appear that there is a fire raging out of control at the 'Edge' night club."

   "Oh, my God," Lana jumped forward on the sofa.  "Have you heard from Chloe yet?"

   "That would be the problem, Miss Lana," Alfred continued.  "Miss Chloe and Morgan Edge seemed to be among the missing."

   Lana covered her mouth with her hands.  "Oh, my God, no."

   Bruce wrapped his arms around her.  "Chloe is missing, Lana," he reminded her.  "No one is saying she is in that building."

   "We have to do something, Bruce," Lana said to him with pleading eyes.

   "Okay," Bruce agreed jumping up.  "We'll take the VMW into town and see if we can find her ourselves."

   "Clark would want to know," she told them standing up next to Bruce.

   "I shall inform the young sir and we shall meet you at the club should he be feeling well enough to travel," Alfred volunteered.

   Bruce took Lana's hand.  "Come on, I'll drive."

   With a dart, the two of them ran for the door as Alfred made his way for the stairwell.

   "Owe," Chloe pulled her hand back away from the tin tunnel she and Salina were climbing through.  "The air ducts are getting warmer and boarder lining on hot."

   "I know," Salina looked back.  "But this is the only way out Chloe," she reminded.  "We have to get across the seating floor before we make it to the air vent over the doorway."

   "Then let's hurry," Chloe said.  "There's no telling how long the structural integrity of the building will hold up under this type of heat."

   Salina shook her head as she continued her crawl.  It was then they felt the duct begin to shake loose from it's fitting that held it to the inner ceiling over the tiles.  With out warning, the section that Salina was reaching gave way and broke through the roof of the club's main floor and she fell the fifteen feet to the floor below.  

   Chloe screamed as she looked down at her friend who lay motionless on the floor with flames all around her.  She inadvertently reached out and found that her section was giving way on her end and tilted down.  She tried with all her might, but there was nothing for her to grab onto. She slid out of the duct and hit the floor below her by landing on her shoulder next to Salina with such a great force that she fell unconscious the moment she reached the ground.

   The flames were closing in, as the two women lay helpless in the debris that was once the most popular comedy club in Gotham City.

   When Alfred did not receive a reply after several knocks on Clark's door, he opened the door and stepped in.  He looked over at the bed to find that it was emptied.  Following the short trail of bed covers, he saw Clark curled up in a ball on the floor.  He was shaking violently and a stream of blood seemed to be trickling out of his mouth.

   He rushed to the young man's side and kneeled next to him.  "Master Clark," Alfred said touching his soaked head.  "Are you okay?"

   Clark darted his eyes open and looked up with horror.  "It's," he stammered.  "It's in my blood stream," he blinked, choking back another blood cloth.  "The poison is in my blood."

   Alfred reached down and pulled the blankets around him tightly.  "I shall call the doctor at once," Alfred announced.

   "No," Clark grabbed Alfred's wrist so hard, that Alfred gasped in pain.  "It won't help," He stammered out.  "Just stay with me," a tear rolled down his cheek.  "Please don't leave me."

   Alfred wrapped his arms around the man who was still a boy as best as he could and held tightly.  "Of course, Master Clark," he tried to smile.  "You shall not be alone."

   Clark allowed his head to tilt up and he saw where the teapot and tray had fallen off the nightstand and made a mess only a few inches from his head.  He groaned as another round of pain began to strike, and in the corner of his blurred vision, he saw a picture had fallen off the stand and propped it self against the bottom frame of the table.  The picture was of Clark and Lex smiling on a happy Christmas morning.  Clark closed his eyes tight as he began to scream from the pain.

TO BE CONTINUED

***Notes***

It's Monday and more good reviews from last week.  Thank you all so much.  My days are so hectic with Christmas so close, but I am determined to keep these chapters coming until I have reached the end.  (At this point in time, that should be by chapter twenty, but don't hold me to that as I am still writing nineteen as we speak.)  So let's see if there are any questions to answer.  (I hope you guys don't think my doing this every week is pompous, but I like to thank everyone personally and answer any questions I can.)

To Merrie:  Thanks again for the uplifting comments, and never gets tired when hearing how much you like the story.  Thanks.

To DarkAngel: Thanks again and I do like cliffhangers.

To Robyn:  Welcome back and thanks.  I like the irony of Lex attacking his savior.

MitchPell:  I hope Pete's revelation was not too disappointing, but you know I couldn't make it that easy.  But don't count Pete out just yet, because he may hold a very large piece of the puzzle in the next few chapters.  Chloe faces the heat next chapter, and I hope you like that twist too.  Lionel is holding Lex for selfish motives.  No one kills a Luthor on his watch.  Lex would never listen to his father and go into hiding on his own, so Lionel feels this is his only choice while Lex is in no shape to say no.  Thanks for reading and keeping me in line.  I can sometimes forget that what is clear in my head may not be coming across so well on paper, so thank you for the questions.

To LaCasta:  Thank you for reading and commenting.  I was a little apprehensive when I first got the idea between the meteor fragments and the Gotham freaks, but Birds of Prey also made a close comparison on the show (After my original thought.) so I figured it would work after all.  As for Selina and Salina, I am almost sure you are right, but when spell check originally corrected it, I didn't even think twice, and for now I am just going to go with Salina until I can one day go back and correct all the chapters.  Thank you for pointing that out.

To Brennan: Thank you so much for your review and as a long time reader of DC comics, I too agree that there is a whole other sandbox to play in with our Smallville characters.  I am also learning to like my Bruce Wayne a little too.  I wasn't sure where I would take him, but I think I've done a few interesting things.  Please let me know what you think.

Thank you all again and please keeping reviewing (Nicely, please.) as we bring this story to its conclusion in the next month.

Best Wishes and Gob Bless

Phaze


	18. Chapter Eighteen

A Death in the Family: Chapter 18 

**   Bill Ross was used to working very late hours in his law firm, but he had never worked into the early hours of the next morning in the courthouse next to his wife, Sarah Ross, who was a district judge.  The two were sitting at a computer terminal in her inner chambers trying to correct the problem that they had been having with the electronic files for the last three days.**

   Sarah watched over her husband's shoulder as he announced.  "That should be about it, Sarah.  I have downloaded the anti-virus that Gab gave me tonight, and it's ready to act."

   "Then do it, Bill," She said.  "If this cure really restores our files, then we can get the legal system in Smallville going again."

   He looked over his shoulder at her.  "Here goes nothing."  His index finger clicked the mouse two times and they could hear the faint hum of the hard drive kicking in.  The screen lit up with bright colors and different windows at a rapid speed that their eyes could not keep up with.  The whole display lasted nearly two minutes before it stopped and the court's main service page came up asking for her code and password.

   Reaching across the table, Sarah entered her federal codes and hit the enter button. They each took a deep breath and waited.

   A sharp, horn-like sound began and the court's legal system of files and documents opened up to the first window showing the possible menu.

   "Oh, my God," Sarah gasped.  "It worked.  The anti-virus broke down the firewall that was keeping us from retrieving the court files.  Everything is back as it was and ready for service."

   "Do you realize what this means?" He turned to his wife.

   "Yes, I do," said Sarah with a stern look in her eyes.  "Luthor Corps and Lionel Luthor have got a lot of explaining to do.  If he does have something to do with this, then Lionel will have to be brought up on federal charges of tampering with the court system."

   "Can we prove something like that?" Bill asked.

   "If I even suspect that he has messed with my court," she replied sternly.  "Then I will make a way to prove it."

   Looking back at the monitor, a smile came across Bill Ross's face.  "Well, we already beat him at one game, Sarah.  Tomorrow morning Jonathan and Martha will finally have their arraignment and bail will be set.  Then they can set their sights on finding their son and whatever secrets Lionel was willing to make them rot in jail to hide."

   Doctor Phillip Burns thought that after he had finished his internship and residencies, that he would never have to see another one-in-the-morning from a hospital ward for the rest of his life. Yet even now that he had his own private practice, he had not considered taking on the secretive title of the Luthor Corps exclusive physician would put him back on rotations again at those un-Godly hours.  He made his way down the nearly silent corridor of the head trauma unit at Metropolis General Hospital, reading the chart of his one and only patient on that day.  Nell Potter had been admitted under his care at the personal request of Lionel Luthor himself.

   He entered the private room without looking up and came face to shoes and an unexpected guest.  Doctor Burns jumped back slightly looking up at the unknown man.

   "Who are you?" He questioned in the dimly lit room.

   "Perry White with the Daily Planet," he smiled with his arm crossed over his freshly broken one.

   "I'm sorry, Mister White," Burns waved his hand and walked around him.  "We don't allow visitors, much less reporters, after hours," he said, stepping to the side of Nell's bed still reading her chart.  "I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave before I call security."

   "That's fine," Perry grinned turning to face him.  "The two minutes it takes them to get up here will be more than enough time for you to answer my questions."

   Burns looked up at him.  "I was not aware they were questions to be asked about a head trauma.  Are you studying Nero surgery now, Mr. White?"

   "No," Perry chuckled.  "But it does interest me to know how it is you know what amount of these drugs to give Miss Potter that will keep her in this deep, yet restful coma."

   Phillip Burns placed his clipboard on the bed next to Nell.  "Not that I owe you any explanations, but Nell has been in a coma since she was struck on the head before she arrived here, and I have been trying a radical new regiment of drug treatments to bring her out of it."

   "With radical news drugs developed in the Luthor Corps labs of your new boss," Perry said with a hint of sarcasm.  "According to my source over at Star Labs, some of the drugs listed in Nell's files have not even been approved by the FDA yet."

   Doctor Phillips was clearly growing angry.  "I don't know what it is you think you know or how you know it, but I will repeat: you must leave."

   "I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers, Doctor Burns," Perry took a few steps forward.  "You see this," he held up his cast arm in the sling.  "I received this little present from your boss tonight for already knowing too much, so I have already paid the price, and I demand answers."

   "I don't know what you think I know," Burns repeated.  "And I don't work for anyone but my patients."

   "Then tell me," White pulled a rolled up paper from his pocket and shoved it at Burns.  "How is it that the same guy who treated Alexander Luthor would be the one who has to deal with the woman who was found in the Luthor Corps parking lot on her way to a meeting with the big 'L' him self.  Your name is on this death certificate, as well as the police report that states that Lex was hammered, when every one who was with him on that night knows he did not have so much as a drop of alcohol."

   "Then they are lying," Burns tried to convince him.  "You will have to take that matter up with the Kent family."

   "I have, doc," Perry growled.  "And we have determined that you are the one with the falsehood."

   Burns took a deep breath and turned away.

   "Besides," Perry continued to the back of his head.  "It still does not explain why you would be handling both of these cases."

   "I am a Nero surgeon," He insisted.  "Both of the patients suffered from head injuries, and I was called on to oversee their care."

   "You have a private practice, doctor," Perry continued.  "For all you know Nell was some bum on the street when they found her.  It's not even clear that she had any insurance from her privately owned flower shop and coffeehouse.  Why was such a highly trained and paid surgeon like yourself called in on a possible Jane Doe?"

   "Because Mr. Luthor asked me to do him a personal favor," Burns finally snapped turning back.  "He and Miss Potter are close, personal friends that go far back, and when he heard that she was injured on his property, he asked me to take on her case as a favor to him in which he would pay the medical expenses."

   "And you never asked why he was so concerned with a mugging?"  Perry questioned further.

   "It was Nell Potter, his friend," Burns' eyes were almost pleading.  "That is all I need to know.  Mr. Luthor's private life is not my business."

   "Then what about your practice?" Perry continued relentlessly.  "What is Lionel making you do to this woman to keep her in a drug-induced coma?"

   "Nothing," Burns replied with anguish.  "I swear."

   Perry looked him over slowly as if taking in one last look and turned away.  "I hope you are right, Doctor Burns," he said hanging his head a little.  "Because by morning the FDA will know for sure."

   "Wait," Burns stopped him as he reached the door.  "What do you mean?"

   Perry had to hide his smile before turning back to face him.  "My friend at Star Labs asked if I could fax over a copy of Nell's file for her inspection."

   "That's a criminal offense," Phillip Burns declared.

   "Good, then call a cop," Perry returned.  "Maybe they will know how to read the files, too."

   "There is nothing on these files that would be illegal," He held up the chart in his hand.  "A little radical experimentation with sample drugs on a incoherent patient when there is no next of kin to approve or disapprove of the treatment, is not uncommon in my field.  You have nothing to incriminate me."

   "Maybe not, but we'll let the FDA decide on that. I am sure that there was something in those encrypted files you had attached to her computer records."

   "You didn't." Burn's eyes grew big.

   "I did, doctor," Perry, allowed his smile to show through.

   "Again," Burns said with a huff.  "I will remind you that delving into personal hospital files is a federal offence.  I could have you arrested right now."

   "But you won't," Perry grinned.  "You see doctor, arresting me is not a major concern. I know how to reach Nell's only next of kin, and it could take some time and a mess of paperwork, but I would eventually be cleared.  You however will have a lot of explaining to do when the records I have uncovered are revealed to either the public or my personal choice, the FDA."

   Phillip Burns looked deep into Perry's eyes with fire behind his own pupils.  "This is blackmail."

   "This is saving a woman's life," White corrected.  "And God only knows how many more.  If Lionel is willing to keep Nell in a coma and send someone to ruff me up, doctor, then who else will be affected by this?"

   Burns stood silent for a long minute.  He then turned back the bed.  "I don't see how I could help you even if I wanted to, Mr. White."

   "But I do," Perry whispered in his ear.  "You are already in this up to your neck.  The only 'out' you have would be to give a gesture of good faith.  Whatever drug you were about to give Nell from that syringe in your pocket, don't administer.  Allow Nell to wake up and tell her side of the story."

   Burns made no response as Perry stepped away.  "I may be able to convince the licensing board that you went out of your way to correct Lionel's deception.  I'm sure they will be very receptive to the facts when I tell them it was you who saved the day."

   The door opened and Phillip heard Perry slip out into the hall.  He was alone with a sleeping Nell Potter and the needle he pulled from his lab coat.  He held it up to the dim light and inspected the yellow tinted substance inside.  He turned back to the door still holding up the device.  This was the moment of decision for him, and he was not sure what to do.  Phillips Burns stood by Nell's bed for a long time in the early morning hours of that day.

   The black hole that Clark found himself trapped in was rudely broken open when he felt a cold hand slapping lightly at his face.  He was able to force his weary eyes open and found himself still spread out on his bedroom floor in the Wayne Manor.  A worried Alfred Pennyworth was staring down at him with wide eyes.

   "Master Clark," The English servant sighed with a sense of relief.  "I was afraid that we might have lost you."

   Clark wanted to say something, or at least smile for the older man, but both his voice and movement of his facial muscles seemed to be gone.  The most he could work up in those first few seconds of consciousness were two blinks of his eyelids.

    Alfred felt for a fever on the young man who was sweating uncontrollably.  "You are burning up, young sir," he announced softly.  "We must get you in bed and I shall call for a doctor at once."

   "No," Clark was able to force out.  "Please don't."

   "But sir," Alfred protested.  "You yourself would agree that you are having a violent reaction to whatever was in the city's drinking water supply, and perhaps Doctor Thompkins could give you a shot to help clean out your system."

   "She," Clark stuttered.  "She won't be able to."

   "I do not understand," Alfred replied while trying to sit him up.

   "I can't explain it," Clark continued.  "I just know that there is nothing she can do to help me.  The poison is in my system and it has to work its way through."

   "But, Master Clark, the blood," Alfred protested again resting Clark against his chest.

   "Please, Alfred," Clark pleaded.  "Trust me on this one.  The doctor won't be able to help."

   "Very well," Alfred lifted him up as best as he could onto the bed.  "I shall play this out your way for now, but should you not be feeling better by dawn's first light, I shall summon the doctor despite your protest."

   Clark rested his head against the pillow.  "Thank you, Alfred," he said with a heavy breath.  "I am already feeling better."  

   He was wrapped in several layers of the comforter and blankets and still Clark shivered as if he were standing out in the worst winter cold without a stitch of clothing.  Alfred sat on the bed next to him and watched as the younger man tried to put on a brave face through what he was sure was shear terror.

   "Lana and Chloe," Clark swallowed hard.

   "Master Bruce and Miss Lana have gone into town to retrieve Miss Chloe," Alfred told him with a smile.  He did leave out the part that 'The Edge' club was on fire and Chloe was among the missing persons.

   "Make sure," Clack stammered.  "Make sure they don't see me like this."

   "Of course," Alfred replied with a nervous smile.  "You must rest and I shall make another pot of tea.  You need to get fluid into your system to flush the poison out."

   Clark nodded his head as Alfred stood up.

   Alfred watched a few more minutes as Clark nodded off to sleep again.  He rubbed his wrist that Clark had held so tightly to, and felt a sharp pain.  Some how it had gotten twisted by the scared teen and was slightly dislocated.  He took in a sigh of relief as he followed the trail of tattered clothes into the bathroom.  Once there, he could see what was once the two thousand dollar suit Clark wore earlier scatter in small swatches of wet material all over the floor.  He crouched down and picked up some of the small remnants.

   "Master Clark," he said softly.  "It would appear that you are not a average teen."

   Pete Ross had gotten Lionel Luthor off the floor in the closet of his private living quarters and into the hospital bed.  The elder man seemed very disorientated and still cowered from Pete as he placed the blankets over him.

   "Are you alright now, Mr. Luthor?" Pete asked with a forced smile.  He hated this man more than anyone he had ever met after the way he had robbed his family out of the creamed corn factor so many years ago, but Pete had never seen his sworn nemesis in such a sad state.  He tucked Lionel in and then stepped away.

   It was then that the dimmer switched to the lights had been turned up and Pete faced a new occupant in the room.

   "Who are you?" Lionel's young chief of security demanded, wearing his smart Italian suit.  "And how did you get in here?"

   "I," Pete stumbled on his words and remembered the uniform he was wearing.  "I am the temp night janitor, and I found this man hiding in the closet."

   "This man," Randolph walked over and checked out Lionel.  "This is Lionel Luthor, and these are his secured quarters.  The building cleaning staff is not authorized to be in here, much less a temporary employee."

   "I'm sorry," Pete tried to talk his way out of the situation.  "I didn't know.  The keys worked, so I just came in to do my job."

   Randolph looked at the small gash in the hairline of Pete's head.  "What happened to you?"

   "I must have scared him when I came in, and he hit me with a baseball bat," Pete explained.  "What's wrong with him?"

   Randolph turned back to Lionel with a concerned look.  "Mr. Luthor is not good," he told him.  "Ever since his son's death, he has been slowly losing his health, if not a small part of his mind."

   "Really," Pete stared down at him stifling a smile.  "I didn't think Lionel and Lex were all that close."

   "Young Alexander was all the family Mr. Luthor had left in the world, and I guess he just can't handle the loss," Randolph told Pete.

   "He seemed fine at the funeral," Pete let out before he realized that he might be placing himself.

  Randolph gave him a questioning look.  "He was fine then, but the grief seems to have settled in after all these weeks.  He just gets worse by the day."

   "Is that the reason for all these machines?" Pete asked.

   "I'm afraid so," Randolph sighed.  "We have all these medical appliances ready just in case, and a full time nurse has been added to the pay roll to check in on him periodically."

   "Wow, sad," Pete commented.

   "What about you?" Randolph refocused his attention back on Pete.  "We should have the nurse look at the wound."

   "No," Pete touched his sore lightly.  "I'll be okay.  I just need to get some cold water on my face.  I'll leave you now."

   "Very well," Randolph nodded with a half smile.  "Make sure you fill out an accident report.  But I would consider it a personal favor if you say you hit your head on a door or something.  We don't need to let Mr. Luthor's condition get out in public."

   "Of course," Pete agreed.

   "Tell your supervisor you are going home for the night with pay," he shook Pete's hand.  "Just let them know that Mr. Randolph has approved it."

   "Okay," Pete walked to the door and took a last look back at Lionel.  "I hope you get better, Mr. Luthor."

   Randolph watched from the bedroom as Pete walked back through the living room into Lionel's office, collected the shop cart, and left the area.  He then walked back into the room and stood over Lionel.

   "He's an imposter," Lionel huffed tossing off his blankets.  "No temps are ever allowed on this floor, and that is a standing order in all departments."

   "I know, Mr. Luthor," Randolph agreed.  "But I am not sure if we should peruse this.  Since Lex attacked him it may be best for all parties if we just let this one drop."

   "But who was he, and why was he here?"  Lionel questioned as he set on the edge of the bed.

   "My guess would be that he somehow works with that Perry White guy, and they are investigating what might have really happened to Miss Potter," Randolph summarized.  "Judging from his reaction, though, I doubt he got the story he was looking for."

   "Let's just hope that tomorrow's headline is not stating my name," Lionel said walking out into the living area.

   "A headline like that would easily be stopped by you yourself, sir," Randolph assured him.  

   "Still," Lionel sat on the sofa, "I cannot help thinking that I have seen that young man before."

   Randolph looked down at Lionel with a questioning stare.

   Lionel sat in deep thought for a moment.  "We can't risk anyone finding Lex so long as Morgan Edge is still alive and gunning for him," he said out loud.  "Find that young man and keep him from talking.  He may be playing the ignorant fool, but I can not take the chance that he might have seen Lex."

   "Yes, sir," Randolph nodded and rushed out of the room.

   A few seconds later Randolph ran up to the elevator door that had just closed while he was speaking on his cell phone.  He pressed the button quickly and the light above the passageway lit up again with a binging sound.  The two doors slid open and he saw that the cleaning crew cart was sitting in the middle of the lift, alone.

   Taking a quick look around the cart and into any possible hiding places, Randolph let out of grunt of frustration as he realized that Pete had gotten away.

   Jumping off the elevator and up the unexplored hall, he spoke annoyed into his phone.  "The kid gave me the slip," he spoke quickly.  "Seal off the building right now.  I want everyone to be on the lookout for a young, African American man wearing a janitor's uniform.  He is a high level security risk, and I want him stopped by any means necessary."

   He stopped in the dark hall long enough to flip his phone shut and take one last look up the hall.  He could not see anything, so he turned around and headed back the way he came.

   At the far end of the hall, Pete had found a small inset that he was able to hide in by pressing his body as tightly as he could against the wall.  He listened as Randolph's footsteps walked in the other direction.  He stood paralyzed and waited until he could decide what to do next.

   The blaze from the remains of what had been, until a few hours earlier, the Edge Comedy Club, lit up the night sky over Gotham as Lana Lang and Bruce Wayne pulled up in his VMW.  They both stepped out and joined the crowd of on lookers.

   "Oh, my God, Bruce," Lana gasped.  "What if Chloe is still in there?"

   "Then they will get her out," Bruce assured her wrapping his arm around her.

   "Look at that place," Lana cried.  "They won't send anyone in there.  It's a hazard, and I know that the fire department has its rules when there is this much structural damage."

   Bruce remained silent as he watched the flames shooting out of the roof.

   Lana wiped her eyes and joined in his gaze.  "There's only one person I know who would risk running into that building."

   Bruce glanced over at her.  "Clark?"

   Lana nodded her head.  "Clark may be a man of many secrets, but everyone knows he would risk life and limb to save his friends."

   "He may not be the only one, Lana," Bruce said softly.

   Lana turned to him quickly.  "Wait, Bruce," she grabbed his arms.  "I didn't mean for you to go into that building."

   "It's not what I want anymore," He gave her a half grin.  "Remember that man I spoke to you about earlier?  The one inside of me?"

   "Of course," Lana said looking deep into his eyes.

   "This is his chance, Lana," Bruce smiled.  "It's time for the dark knight to strike."

   "No," Lana screamed as he pulled away.  "Please don't do this, Bruce."

   Removing his black canvas raincoat, Bruce crouched down by the leaking fire hydrant with the hoses attached.

   "Bruce," Lana kneeled at his side at he soaked the coat in the water.  "Please don't do this.  I could not stand the thought of losing you, too."

   "I have to do this, Lana," he spoke while working on the jacket.  "We both know I would not be able to forgive myself if I didn't try.  I've been training for this stuff for years, don't worry."

   Lana grasped his wet face in her tender hands.  "But I am worried," a tear rolled down her face.  "I can't bare the thought of loosing you Bruce because I think I'm falling in love with you."

   Bruce stopped short and stared at her for a long silent moment.

   "Please," she finally pleaded.

   Bruce leaned forward and planted as warm, hard kiss on her moist lips.  He reached up his left hand and held the back of her head close to his, and Lana gave of her passion freely. The two of them crouched at a fire hydrant behind the crowd went unnoticed as they embraced their mutual attraction for each other.

   Then he pulled away quickly and Bruce gave her one last look.  "I'll be back," he whispered softly.  "I promise."

   Lana nodded pulling her jacket closed tightly.  The summer night air became increasing cold as she watched the man she was becoming very affectionate for walk away into the shadows on the side of the building where he hoped to slip in unseen.

   The door to the cleaning closet swung open sharply, hitting Lex's foot as Randolph stormed his way into the small enclosure.  "It's time for your bed check," he announced coldly.

   Randolph's crude joke was stopped abruptly as he noticed the floor was covered with plaster chips and two large, limb-shaped pieces with a trace of blood.  He followed the trail leading back to its source.  Lex Luthor laid on the floor with his newly uncovered leg and arm that were in the cast.  The ordeal must have been excruciating, as he was now barely coherent from the shear pain.

   "Not tonight, cue ball," Randolph sighed dejectedly.  "Daddy boss man is not going to like this."

   Shrugging his shoulders, Randolph reached down picking Lex partially off the floor and began dragging him back to his room.

   The room was hot and Smokey, much too much for anyone to survive for long, but somehow Salina Kyle was able to will herself back to consciousness.  She raised her head and surveyed the area as the smoke stung at her eyes.  All she could tell through the thick smoke and flames was that she had fallen out of the air ducts that went across the ceiling of the Edge, and that she was now trapped and surrounded by the flames that seemed to be covering everything.

   She slumped her head down and just wanted to pass out again, but in the corner of her eye, she could see another human form.  It was then that Salina remembered that she was not alone, and Chloe Sullivan laid next to her, still out cold.

   Salina slid her slender form over to her new friend staying low to the ground and felt for a pulse.  "Oh, thank God," she whispered.  She then began to push at her friend softly trying to wake her.  "Come on, Chloe, girl," she choked on the smoke.  "You were the one who wanted to keep stabbing at this 'living' thing."

   After a few more pushes and a slap on the face, Salina knew that Chloe was not going to wake up any time soon, so she began to case the room.  In a normal day, had she the desire to go on, she could have easily made her way around and over many of the clusters of flames. That day she knew that she was in no shape to carry another person who out weighed her by a good twenty pounds through the obstacle course.

   She lowered her head again and began to recite a small prayer she had been taught in her childhood.  She had given up on believing in an eternal being watching over her years ago, but she wondered if Chloe believed in such benevolent creators, and so she calmed her own dislike for what she was doing by thinking that her silent prayer was for Chloe and not her.  Salina recited the small poem of a prayer over three times before she thought she saw something moving in the distance against the flickers of the flames.

   The shadow being drowned in the amber lights and smoke filled perception seemed to be coming closer as Salina watched with great interest.  The creature in the night began to take form and a silhouette shape emerged in the bleakness of the room.  The shadow was a large, bird-shaped like object.  Atop its head were two points on either side that stuck out high above the rest of the form, and the wide frame on each end seemed to be like wings flapping in the wind.  The bottom was separated at three points and Salina's mind came to the conclusion that she was about to be taken by the creature of death himself in bat form.

   She held her breath until the shadow was just above her, and she looked up with watery eyes from the smoke into the face of Bruce Wayne, who was covered in soot and ashes.  He held his damp full-length raincoat out over his head where the collar was turned up, making what Salina thought were ears. He held it far out to his side, giving way for the flapping material on each end with the fashionable cuts at the bottom draping down into points.

   "Salina," Bruce yelled over the roar of the flames around them.  "Are you okay?"

   "Yeah," she nodded with a bit of shock in her eyes.

   "Can you walk?" He questioned with large caring eyes.

   "I think so," she nodded again.  "But Chloe is hurt and hasn't come to, yet."

   "I'll carry her," He wrapped the left side of the coat around her as he bent down to pick up Chloe.  "Her shoulder looks dislocated, but I have to move her anyway."

   Salina cuddled close to Bruce, holding her side of the coat over herself while he pulled Chloe up and into the fold of his right arm.  He began to lead the two young women through the smoke and flames.

   Just as they had cleared the area they heard a loud crash and Salina looked back to see where a large center beam for the building, still ablaze with fire, had landed on the very spot that they had been in.  She took another glance up as Bruce and wrapped her right arm around his waist all the tighter.

   It had only been mere minutes since Randolph had missed seeing him in the hall, but Pete knew that the few people, who were in the building at the late hour, were now looking for him.  He had managed to avoid being seen so far, but he knew his luck would not hold out for long.  Pete needed to find a place to ditch his uniform and perhaps wearing his own street cloths he had under the jump suite would help him slip away a little easier.

   Coming down another of the long corridors, he saw the janitors closet Cleary marked.  He took out his master key ring and found the right device to open the door.  Slipping in just as a shadow passed by the edge of the hall, Pete took a deep sigh of relief.

   He began pulling off the overhauls by unzipping the large opening that ran down the front.  As he glanced down, he noticed a trail of broken chock like objects.  He followed the trail to two large pieces of the casting that were shaped like an arm and a full length of a leg.  Pete could see the speckles of blood that were all over the material and floor.

   Crouching down, he picked up a small piece and examined it closely.  As he was studying the object in the dim closet light, another darker and more rounded item got his attention in the far corner.

   Pete reached across slowly and grasped it.  It was slightly heavy and made of wood.  He could tell that it had been crated onto a shape.

   Holding it up to the light, he could see that it had been badly battered and beaten and some of its forms had been rounded out or crushed, but the shape was still clear.  He had found a wooden horse.

   Pete's attention was distracted when he heard the door open behind him.

   "Well, well," Randolph stood over him.  "I knew if I looked hard enough, I would find you."

   "I," Pete stuttered.  "I was just getting out of my uniform sir."

   "That's all find and well," Randolph gave an evil grin.  "But there has been a change in our plan.  You are not going anywhere, kid."

   A lump lodge itself in Pete's throat as he looked back at the horse with a trickle of blood on it.  The realization came to him as he thought back to the baseball bat a few minutes earlier.

   "Come on kid," Randolph grabbed his arm.

   As he was being pulled up, Pete swung the horse around with all his might and aimed it at Randolph's head.  The two solid pieces of matter met with a sickening thud, and Pete saw as a gash open up widely over Randolph's right eye.

   The security chief let out a loud curse word and looked dimly into the empty space before him.  All his movement stopped, and he slumped slowly to the floor.

   Pete yanked the last of the work suite off, and picked up the wooden horse again.  He didn't realize the significance, but he knew that somehow, this was a huge clue to Lionel's secret.

   Taking one last glance down at Randolph's unconscious body and back down the emptied hall, Pete slipped away back into the night.

   Lionel Luthor stood over his son who had been placed back in his bed.  He watched as the younger man fought to keep his consciousness.

   "You have had a very harrowing night, Lex," he commented with a scowl.  "If bad enough that you attacked the intruder, but then you risked yourself even further by removing your cast."

   Lex moaned something that his father could not understand.

   "You need to be taught a lesson son," Lionel continued with his demeaning tone.  "I have tried to convince you that you are safer hear than anywhere else on your own, and still you are trying to find new ways to escape me."

   Lex was able to open his eye wide enough to look up at his father.

   "That's right son," Lionel gave him an evil grin.  "Father always knows best.  And now that Morgan is apparently one to me and has gone into hiding, you are not safe anywhere but at my side."

   "What," Lex grunted.  "What are you saying?"

   "I'm saying that it is my job to protect you now and forever," Lionel grinned.  "Morgan Edge may being trying to fake his death, but I know he's still out there and if he ever finds out that you are still alive, then he will come looking for you."

   "Some one saw me tonight," Lex gasped out.  "They will tell."

   "Some one?" Lionel questioned.  "Didn't you see who you attacked?"

   Lex turned his head slightly in a 'no'.

   "Oh Lex," Lionel ran his hand over his son's head.  "Your phone call must have worked the other day.  The man in the closet was your friend Clark."

   "Clark," Lex shut his eyes tight.

   "Yes, Lex," Lionel lied.  "Apparently he came to save you and you attacked him."

   "Where," Lex lipped his lips.  "Where is he now?"

   Lionel leaned down close to Lex's ear.  "I have had him taken back to his farm in Smallville.  You see Lex, Clark won't be coming for you again.  You killed him."

   The last statement startled Lex into opening his eyes widely.

   "I had his body returned to the farm to make it look like a farming accident," Lionel continued.  "With his folks in jail for causing your death, there won't be anyone around to find him for days."

   What little of a coherent mind Lex had left, was spinning as Lionel walked to the door.

   "I guess," Lionel stopped and reached for the dimmer switch.  "I guess the buzzards will lead someone to the body eventually."

   Lionel took one look back at his shaken son and closed the door as he left the room.

   In the still silence of the complete darkness, Lex began to moan in an inhuman like manner.  The moans quickly gave way to groans, which turned to screams and then screeches into the night.  Lex screamed as loud as he could and the bloodcurdling sounds of pain echoed down the empty corridors all over the top floor of the Luthor Corps building.

   What little hope that Lex had been holding onto that night was lost in the insanity of his plagued mind.  He would have rushed for the window and jump out, but as he tried to move, he found that his arms and legs were tightly bound to the bed frame.

   Lex was indeed a helpless prisoner of his father once again, and his only escape was through his mind.  Screaming as loud as he could through bloody coughs from his previously injured lungs.  Lex released what was left of his sanity and drifted into the darkness of his own mind.

   Even he was unsure how he did it, but Pete Ross had been able to find an exit through a back alley door.  Once on the street, Pete ran as fast as he could, and did not stop until he was several blocks away from the Luthor Corps building and the hoards of security guards that he was sure were looking for him.

   Stopping to take a few deep breaths and rest for a moment in the doorway of a closed gift shop, Pete remembered the object that he had tucked safely under his lightweight coat.  He pulled out into the light of the street lamp and looked it over again.

   Even though the features had been mostly pounded out of the object, he could make out the special shape and size.  Holding it up to the streetlight, Pete could not help but think that he had seen this toy horse before, but he just couldn't remember where.

   When he heard several rushing footsteps turning down the street a few doors away, Pete remembered that it was not safe there. He tucked the horse away under his coat again check the clear street and continued his run to his car that he had parked several blocks away.

   When Bruce and the girls had emerged from the burning club, a paramedic took Chloe from Bruce's arm and rushed her to a waiting ambulance.  He released his grip on the jacket and stepped out, allowing the material to fall across Salina's slender form.  The once wet jacket was now bone dry and warn with a few scorches from the flames.  Two other firemen grabbed them and lead them away from the building that began to give way.

   After being moved several feet away, Bruce looked back, and announced to the fireman who was restraining him, "Morgan Edge may still be in there!"

   "It's too late," the young male fire fighter returned.  "The building is gone.  If he wasn't already dead, then the roof collapsing just finished the job."

   Bruce stared into his eyes for a moment, and he knew that the young man was right.  If anyone was still alive in there, they were not going to get out alive even with his help.

   "Bruce," Lana raced to his side.  "Oh, thank God you are all okay."  She hugged the man with all her might.  The fireman released his grip and Bruce returned her embrace.  The two began to kiss against the backdrop of the blazing building.

   Lana pulled away slightly and looked up at him with a large grin.  "Chloe is already starting to revive, and the EMT people are calling you a hero."

   Bruce gave her one of his rear smile.  "It wasn't me, Lana," he said softly.  "Bruce Wayne is no hero."

   Lana cuddled her head against his chest.  Her forehead became creased with worry, because she knew what he was referring to.  Bruce had surrendered himself fully to the dark places within himself that night, and he was enjoying the warmth of the shadows, his new best friend.

   Bruce pulled her tightly into his arms again as he watched the building burn.  His life had taken a dramatic turn that night.  He knew that he still had much to learn, and years more to train him self up to peak performance, but now he knew is destiny.  Bruce Wayne would be the mask he wore to the world, but it was the shadow, the darkness and it was the bat that would forever rule his future from that night forward.

   'A hero.' He was perhaps; but a force for avenging the wrongs of the world; for sure.

   Salina watched from a distance as the world seemed to go on around her, and still no one even noticed her.  The medical workers were too busy with Chloe that they did not even approach her even after coming out of the burning building.  She simply watched as everyone had someone to take care of him or her, and she herself was alone; again.

   Taking one last look at what was to be her future at Morgan's side in the nightclub, Salina stepped away from the rushing fire crews and slipped into an alley across the road.  A tear fell from her eyes as she allowed herself a moment to grieve for what could have been and was now lost.

   Like the moon in the morning and sun at night, Salina slipped behind the building and disappeared into the day.

   The fire chief had asked for Bruce to give him an assessment of what he had seen inside the building. As he was lured away, Lana took the time to make her way over to where Chloe was laying on the hospital gurney inside the ambulance.

   She climbed in and looked down at her friend who was in a seated position.  "You're looking better," Lana smiled.  "The EMT said you had a dislocated shoulder and some smoke inhalation, but that you should be fine."

   Chloe reached up with her good hand and removed the oxygen mask.  "You'll have to thank your billionaire boyfriend for the save," Chloe responded in a raspy voice.  "They tell me that I would have been a fried friend if he hadn't have saved us."

   "Yeah," Lana looked across the crowd outside the door at him.  "He's a really sweet guy."

   "It feels strange being saved by someone other than Clark for a change," Chloe tried to smile.  "Where is Clark?"

   "I don't know," Lana's face grew serious for a second.  "I guess he and Alfred are trapped in traffic somewhere that this fire scene caused.  I think he's going to be really surprised with Bruce."

   "I know I am," Chloe coughed.  "It seems that Clark is not the only guy with a hero complex."

   "Yeah," Lana looked down with a big grin.  "Its nice to know there's more than one hero."

   Chloe allowed her thoughts to drift for a moment and then returned to Lana.  "Has anyone seen Morgan Edge?"

   "No," Lana replied with a serious tone.  "They are thinking he might have been in the building, too, and he would most likely be dead right now."

   "He's not dead, Lana," Chloe said as matter of fact.  "He's on the run."

   "The run?" Lana questioned.  "What for?"

   A tear rolled down Chloe's cheek as she remembered her ordeal and what she had learned.

   Lana placed Chloe's hand in hers.  "What is it, Chloe?  Did you find something?"

   "Yeah," Chloe nodded her head sniffing away the tears.  "Lex is really dead, Lana, and Morgan Edge was the one who killed him to get back at Lionel Luthor."

   "Oh, my God," Lana gasped.

   "After he told us, Morgan locked us in the office when the fire started," Chloe explained.  "The whole terrorist group was a set up, and Lex was nothing more than a pawn in a sick game between Morgan and Lionel."

   "It's okay, Chloe," Lana leaned her head against her friends.  "Whatever reason the two men had, they won't be able to use Lex anymore."

   The few tears became a full sob as Chloe cried.  "How do I tell Clark that Lex is not going to be found?  He's dead."

   Lana placed her arm around Chloe's injured shoulder.  "It's not like Clark didn't know that this could happen," she said try to be supporting.  "I know he had hopes that Lex was being held by the bad guys in this whole mess, but he has to let that hope go.  It's over Chloe, the mystery is solved and Lex, is still dead."

TO BE CONTINUED

***Notes***

Wow, not only did I get a lot of reviews this week, but also some really blew me away, more so than normal.  I'll let you in on a little secret.  I was not concentrating on Pete as much as all of you were, so I actually had to go back and beef up his part a little more in this chapter.  I guess sometimes it helps to have people looking over your shoulder from time to time.  Thanks for the save guys.

To Suz:  Thanks for your kind words again, and a special shout out.  I sometimes wonder if I'm going a little over board with some of my twist, but since you guys seem to like it, I guess it's not too bad.

To Brennan:  I agree that Bruce would not have open up to Lana so easily like he did, which is why I never allowed him to say the Batman name, however, since my story is not one of those first person points of view, I thought it would be confusing (To me at least) to have Bruce doing all the story telling in his head, so I made Lana the sounding board.  I mean let be serious, it Lana hasn't put Clark and a Super Teen together yet, then what's the chances she'll remember what Bruce told her ten years down the road when he becomes the Bat.  (Who according to the recent DC lore is only a legend.)

   Thanks for the Salina/Selina input.  Like I said, I knew I was wrong and I'm sorry.  Only a true comic book buff would have gotten the Tony Stark reference.  Thanks for noticing.

   Thanks for your comments and it means allot to me that you like my work.  So you know MitchPell that would explain allot.  Thanks again.

To MitchPell:  By the way have you met Brennan? =) I was real worried about switching Lionel with Lex.  I thought you might all turn on me, but apparently it worked.  Like you said it was too early for anyone to find Lex, and what fun would it be if it were someone he wasn't close to. (Hint)  Yet as you see here, Pete might hold a large piece of the puzzle.  

   Lex may not be in any shape to help him self for a while yet, but it doesn't mean his story is over.  Yes, his leg is still busted and should have pins and screws as mentioned before.  That would be where all the blood came from.

   Yes, Salina is Catwoman.  She was a prostitute before she became a cat burglar.  I don't think she ever met Bruce, Morgan or Clark before hand, but hey, that's what fan fiction is for.  It may seem a long time, but it's only been a few hours since Chloe disappeared, and both Bruce and Clark had other things on their mind.  Perhaps Lana should have gone back, but oh well.

   I would like to post faster, but I need to give poor Christin time to live her own life between Bata readings, and since I have yet to finish chapter 19 as I write this, it's most likely a good thing that I wait.  (I will have nineteen finished by next week. It's just all this holiday stuff that is taking up so much of my time.  I actually go to work so to have time to myself.)

   Thanks for the continued support and apparently talking about me with Brennan.

To Merrie: Thanks for coming back again.  I always look forward to hearing form you MitchPell and the rest of you regulars.  I'm glad you still like all the twist and turns, and I especially like that you enjoyed Clark and Alfred's talk, which I dedicated to you.

To      : Who ever you are, thanks for the kind words.  It really means allot that you like the story.

To Starburst:  Thanks and I'm writing, I'm writing. =)

To Aino:  Thanks for your interest.  I hope I can continue to entertain you.

To Angledust:  You made my week.  I always wonder how many people are reading and not reviewing.  (Not that I mind, I do it myself.)  I feel great knowing that you have enjoyed from the beginning.  (Especially considering how different the story is before and after Lex's 'death'.)  I forgive you, ands thanks so much for the high compliment.  I try very hard to make these the best that they can be, and it's so rewarding to know that you think so highly of my story.

   I have loved comic books for almost as long as I can remember, so I love being able to play in their sand boxes.  I also love giving each character something to do, so what better way than trying to mesh the two worlds and come up with a few workable pairs.

   I also like Clark being 'not so super'; I like to show the boy and his vulnerabilities.  I also have him crying allot which apparently the show thinks he is no longer capable of after the pilot.

   And you can gush all you like.  I love these long reviews.  You should see how my face lights up when I'm having a bad day at work and I check my e-mail to find another review.  Let's just say it make things a whole lot better.

   Thanks again for reviewing and I look forward to your further comments.

Okay, I was a little long winded this time myself, but I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate each and ever kind word.  I said it before, and I'll say it again.  It means allot to me.  Thanks.

Best Wishes and God Bless

Phaze


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**A Death in the Family: Chapter Nineteen**

   The dew from the early morning still covered the grass two stories below the balcony outside of Clark's room at Wayne Manor. He had stood there for the past hour after watching the sun come up over the countryside.  It was not much, but it was as close of a feeling of being back in Kansas as he could find here on the outskirts of Gotham City.  He took a few deep breaths to inhale the cool morning air that would soon give way to another day of summer heat.

   It felt good to be alive on this day and out of his sick bed. He had spent most of the night there fighting off the effects that lingered after he almost drowned in the polluted Gotham Reservoir.  He had passed every type of body waste possible during the night and Alfred's insistence on his drinking the hot tea to keep the fluids moving also helped to flush his system out faster.  Clark was still slightly weak, but felt like his old self again.  Whatever was in that water was finally gone, and he could concentrate on solving the mystery behind Lex's accident. He would take into consideration his own brush with death later.

   When he finally made his way back into the room, wearing his usual attire of jeans and a tee shirt, Clark heard the distinctly soft knocking of Alfred at his door.  He smiled as he realized how easily he had come to recognize the man's manners.

   "Come in, Alfred," Clark called out, picking his dirty pajamas from the floor.

   The door opened slowly as Alfred let his head slip into the room.  "Are we feeling well enough to receive guests this morning?"  He asked the young man.

   "Sure," Clark called back over his shoulder, pulling the blankets up over the bed after tucking the sleepwear under the pillows.

   Alfred opened the door the entire way and ushered Lana and Chloe into the room.  They ran to the bedside and each gave Clark a big hug.  Chloe had her arm in a sling with a bandage over her dislocated shoulder.

   "What happen?" Clack looked down at her after the hug with a shocked stare.

   "I had a little run in with a floor when I fell out of an air duct," she told him with a smile.  "But the doctors say it was only slightly dislocated, and I need to wear this sling until the swelling goes down."

   "I don't believe this," Clark gasped.  "I didn't even know you were hurt."

   "From what Alfred told us when we got home early this morning, you were having your own problems," Chloe replied with a smile.  "He wouldn't even let us in here to check up on you."

   "I believed it was in the best interest of all concerned that your condition not be made to view by anyone who would only be worried by your appearance," Alfred explained with his English gentleman's stance a few feet away.

   "Alfred was right," Clark smiled over at him.  "You wouldn't have wanted to see me with all the hurling and shakes all night."

   Alfred nodded his head and walked back towards the door.  "I shall go prepare breakfast," he announced.  "Do make your way to the dining room when you so desire."

   Clark watched as he left the room.

   "So," Chloe interrupted his watch.  "Lana tells me that you had a rough time in the water last night."

   "Yeah," Clark sat on the edge of the bed.  "I don't know what these people are being forced to drink, but it sure had a bad effect on me."

   "It was like the water sapped Clark of all his energy," Lana added.  "His skin even turned grayish." 

   "I'm not sure if there is a connection," Clark said, putting his hands in his pocket.  "But I think someone is polluting the Gotham City drinking water."

   Chloe had a serious look on her face as she turned away.  "There is a connection, Clark," she said under her breath loud enough for them to hear.  "The connection is Lionel Luthor."

   "Lionel," Clark questioned.  "He's all the way back in Kansas.  What would he have to do with the Gotham drinking supply?"

    "According to the documents I was shown last night, and by a few strong testimonials from people effected by the results, Lionel has been polluting the Gotham City water supplies for years, and using the inhabitants as live guinea pigs," Chloe explained.

   "It's all part of his big secret and why he has been trying to mislead everyone about Lex's accident," Lana added as she sat down next to him.

   Clark gave her a puzzled look.  "I don't get it," he stood up and walked over to the seating area by the fireplace.  He placed his hand on the mantel and looked down into the cool ashes.  "What does dirty water in Gotham have to do with Lex's death in Smallville?"

   Lana and Chloe gave each other a concerned look as Chloe made her way over to Clark's side.  "It is all a big game of deception, Clark," she spoke softly.  "But it all stems from level three at the Smallville Luthor Corps plant."

   The mention of Lionel's dirty little secret area caught Clark's attention and he looked up at his friend.

   "Earl Jenkins was right, Clark," she continued.  "Lionel was running some secret experiments down there, and it was producing a lot of waste.  Luthor Corp needed somewhere to dispose of the potentially harmful bye-products from his testing, so he arranged to have it dumped in the Gotham land fills."

   Clark made his way over to the armchair and sat down, still listening to his friend.

   "Morgan Edge showed me secret documents detailing these activities last night, only he claims that Lionel gave new orders by paying off the city's officials, and the waste was not dumped in the land fill," she paused to let it sink in.  "The waste was dumped into the Gotham City Reservoir of drinking water."

   "Why?"  Clark said with a lost look in his eyes.

   "For the same reason there was a level three to start with," Lana said, making her way over to them.  "He wanted to see the effects the meteor fragment waste would have on living organisms.  According to what Chloe and I could figure, the first tests must have been on plant life on level three and then on humans in Gotham."

   "He must have wanted it far away from Metropolis, too," Chloe added.  "He not only took advantage of the depressed economy and dirty politicians around here, but he knew this city was far enough away that Kansas would not be effected."

   "With the constant west to east jet stream," Clark thought out loud.  "Even if there was any fall out, it would take years, if ever, for the pollutants to reach Metropolis."

   "All these facts prove that Lionel knew what he was doing," Chloe remarked with a huff.  

   "Morgan Edge," Clark seemed to remember him all of the sudden.  "He knew about Lionel's test?"

   "Not until recently," Chloe sat in the chair.  "My guess is Edge and Luthor were not even aware of each other until the effects on Gotham's people started to show, and Edge began to research possible reasons.  According to him, Earl's confession was the clincher that proved Luthor's involvement."

    "So Gotham has been Lionel's own testing lab," Clark rubbed his chin while deep in thought.

   "That would appear to be the case," Chloe confirmed.

   "It still doesn't fully explain why the water had such a bad effect on you," Lana joined in sitting on the coffee table before them.  "I mean we live in the capital city for these meteor fragments, and I have never seen them have such a bad effect on you, Clark."

   "I guess I never got a lung full of contaminated water before," Clark tried to find an excuse.  "Even my folks would never let me swim in Crater Lake, so I have never been that close to it."

   "There's also no telling how Luthor has alerted the original fragments before he dumped them here," Chloe added.  "If the water had such an effect on a big strapping farm boy like you," she smiled at him.  "It's no wonder why this town has it's own versions of meteor freaks."

   Clark sat silent for a moment as he allowed all the information to sink in.  He then turned back to the girls and asked, "So, what is the actual Edge and Luthor connection?  If Morgan Edge knew Lionel was doing this, then why didn't he come forward and expose him?"

    "Morgan Edge had his own agenda," Chloe said with a concerned look.  "He was not interested in justice as much as he was in retribution."  She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands.  "It seems that Morgan's infant son was one of the water's infected victims, and he eventually died a horrible death, which in turn sent Mrs. Edge over the line that ended with her killing herself."

   "So when he discovered Luthor Corps and the drinking water connection, " Clark finished.  "He knew where the fault laid."

   "And he wanted revenge," Lana added in.

   Clark lifted his head with a scared look.  "Oh, my God," he gasped.  "An eye for an eye and a son for a son."

   Both Chloe and Lana remained silent as they let him process the information into his thought patterned.

   They each took one of his hands as he sat silent with his head low.  Chloe glanced over at Lana before she spoke softly again.  "Clark," she lifted his chin with her free hand.  "Morgan Edge admitted to me last night that he murdered Lex.  The whole terrorist story was a smoke screen set up by him to mislead the police."

   Clark's lower lip quivered slightly as he asked, "So what are you saying, Chloe?"

   "Lex is not a prisoner, Clark," she spoke softly and deliberately remorse.  "Morgan Edge was determined to kill Lex in exchange for the death of his own son, and he was very sure that it was done."

   "The phone call," Clark started.

   "Just some sick joke," Chloe told him.  "I would not be surprised if Morgan didn't set it up himself to get us out here and uncover the truth."

   "If he wanted us to expose Lionel for him," Clark rationed out.  "Then why wouldn't he just hand over his proof?"

   "It might have been his original plan," Chloe replied. "But he didn't plan on Lionel coming after him so quickly, and in the heat of the moment, he was more than eager to tell me that he was responsible for Lex's death.  Which, in turn, he realized I could not live with that knowledge."

   Clark looked up alarmed at her.

   "Morgan tried to kill me and Salina last night," She said patting his hand.  "He locked us in his office after a fire started and left us to die."

   "Bruce saved them," Lana added.

   Clark gave her a puzzled look.  "Bruce?" he repeated.  "The same guy who froze at the sight of a gun at the club, and then almost killed the guy from sheer anger?"

   "That would be the same Bruce," Lana blushed.

   Clark rubbed his face with his hands.  "This is all too much," he mumbled.  "Lionel is an environmental terrorist while Morgan pays to have a bunch of rich kids killed off to cover up his real target, and then sets us up to uncover the truth only to find out that Chloe knows too much and tries to kill her with an anthrop phobia Bruce Wayne as her hero?"

   "Some one has been reading his Physiology 101 books again," Chloe raised an eyebrow.  "But, yeah, that Bruce."

   "So why would Morgan bring us all the way out here to find the truth only to kill us once we knew?" Clark asked.

   "We were suppose to discover Luthor's secrets on our own," Chloe explained.  "At least I think that was the plan, but when Morgan found out that Lionel was on to him and sent a hit man, all bets were off.  He decided to handle things himself and took the documents with him before the club burned down.  He no longer felt it necessary to hide his connection from Lionel since Lionel figured it out on his own.  The problem was I was too close to the source as well, and became a threat."

   "Morgan and Lionel are not the point Clark," Lana put in.  "Those two can do whatever they want to each other.  That dye has been cast, but the whole reason we came to Gotham is over.  We know what really happen to Lex now, and he's not coming back."

   Lana reached across and touched his face.  "Lex is dead, Clark."

   The space that stood behind his eyes became vacant as Clark stared at her.  The pain that he felt when Martha told him about the accident was resurfacing.  His mind drifted back to the day he had been able to finally block from his memories as he watched his best friend die in his arms.  Then the total loss felt standing at his gravesite began to consume his heart again.  The phone call had blocked all these emotions, and the thin veil of hope and possibilities covered them. These were what he had held onto the last four days, only now the veil was being torn, and the pain from so much grief was again lifting its evil head.

   "Clark," Chloe glanced at Lana and then back at him.  "Are you okay?"

   Her voice called his reactive mind back to reality, and he nodded.  "I'm fine."

   The girls watched as he got up and made his way back to the balcony door.  "I," he almost whispered.  "I need to be alone for a few minutes."

      The courtroom was nearly vacant at the early hour as Martha and Jonathan Kent, wearing their best business suits, entered.  The two embraced passionately at the realization that they had not seen each other in days.  The handcuffs were removed and they sat side by side, hand in hand, as Bill Ross fumbled with the last minute paper work.

   "What can you tell us?" Jonathan asked him softly.

   "Not much, I'm afraid," he responded.  "Sarah tried to get a feel for the situation from Judge Brown earlier, but he wasn't about to drop his poker face."

   "Is that a bad sign?" Martha leaned in to ask.

   "I wish I could tell you, Martha," Bill said back with a cautious look.  "Brown has always been a bit of a hard nose, but with all the peculiar twists in your case thus far, there is no telling which way this could go."

   "What Bill is so eloquently trying not to say, Martha," Jonathan spoke softly.  "Is that he hopes Lionel Luthor hasn't got Judge Brown in his back pocket like he does the police department."   

   They all rose as the judge was brought into the room and the assistant district attorney gave her reading of the charges and why these two people 'should not' be allowed to be given bail.  Then it was Bill Ross' turn to give the Kent's side of the case and to assure the judge that his clients were not flight risk.

   The somber middle-aged man with the graying temples sat quietly for several minutes mulling over the court documents and conferring with his bailiff from time to time.  After several agonizing minutes, he turned his attention back to the courtroom of eight people.

   "Will the defendants rise" the judge instructed.

  Both Kents and Bill Ross rose to their feet with heavy stares.

   "I have reviewed this case," the judge started.  "As both of you have pleaded innocent while the D.A.'s office is holding such strong evidence to your guilt, I have no choice but to schedule this case to trial."

   Martha let out a disappointed sighed as Jonathan grasped her hand again.

   "The court has also been petitioned to set bail at this time," he continued.  "And after much consideration, due to the possible flight risk as your son has disappeared to avoid questioning, I have decided to set bail at the highest possible level for this case.  I do so only because you have each been subjected to an already lengthy incarceration and the court have decided to show lenience in setting such bail."

   Martha's hands began to shake as she waited for the set price.

   The judge flipped through a few pages one more time before he spoke.  "So it is hereby granted that bail is to be set at five hundred thousand dollars for each defendant."

   "Five hundred thousand dollars," Martha repeated loudly.  "We don't have that kind of money."

   Bill motioned to her to remain silent.

   "Your honor," Jonathan spoke up from her left.  "My wife and I are farmers.  We do not have a million dollars to pay the bail.  This isn't even a case of murder.  We are being falsely accused of wrongful death.  The bail could not possibly be that high."

   He crashed his gavel on the bench. "Silence," he demanded.  "It has been determined by this court that you are a flight risk, and thus makes it well within my means to set a high bail or to deny bail should you provoke the bench."

   "They will never let us out of here," Martha turned to her husband. "The only person we know with that type of money is Lionel and he's the reason we are in here."

   Jonathan pulled his wife into a hug.  "I know, darling," he said assuring.  "We'll find a way out of this."

   "Your honor," a new voice joined into the conversation from the doorway.  They all turned and saw Sarah Ross approaching the bench with another familiar woman at her side.

   "Your Honor," Sarah spoke.   "If it pleases the court, this woman would like to pay the bail for the Kents."

   The judge looked down at them with a frown.  "This woman?"

   "Mrs. Jack Fordman," the second lady spoke.  "I have already provided the bailiff's office with the necessary paperwork and have put up the Fordman Department store, with a net value of well over three million dollars down as collateral."

   "So you see, your Honor," Sarah added.  "The worth of the store will more than cover the lean against the Kents."

   "Very well," he slammed his gavel again.  "See to it that the bailiff gets the money and this trial is set for four weeks from today in this chamber.  Court adjourned."

   With a huff, the judge rose, as did the rest of the courtroom and left the hall.  Both Martha and Jonathan hugged their new savior in turn.

   "I don't believe this, Joan. Why would you put Fordman Department Store up at risk for us?"  Martha asked her with a big smile.

   "I know we haven't been close, Martha," she smiled back.  "But Jack always did think highly of Jonathan and their time together on the Crows.  Whitney and Clark were also able to work out their differences before he left, so I knew they would want me to help in any way I could."

   "Thank you very much," Jonathan joined the conversation.  "I don't know how we can ever repay your trust in us."

   "Oh, I'm not worried, Jonathan," she smiled.  "I have a feeling this may not ever go to trial."

   "What do you mean?" He questioned with a puzzled look.

   Joan and Sarah gave each other a friendly glance before they turned back to them.

   "We have great news," Sarah started.

   "I got a phone call from Nell Potter this morning," Joan continued.  "She woke up from her coma during the night.  Someone told her about this hearing, and she asked me to step in on her behalf and help in any way I could."

   "Nell is awake," Martha's jaw dropped open with a huge grin.  "Oh, dear Lord, I have been praying for her to wake up."

   "Well your prayers have been answered," Mrs. Fordman grinned back.  "Now she can't say much, but I have a feeling she might have something that could turn this case around."

   "We have to go to Metropolis," Martha turned to Jonathan.  "We need to hear what Nell knows."

   Jonathan looked over at Bill Ross who was enjoying the reunion.

   "I don't see why not," he smiled widely.  "As long as you stay in Kansas, you are welcome to travel all you want."

   "Oh, Jonathan," Martha wrapped her arms around his neck.  "This whole nightmare might soon be over."

   He returned her hug, but still had a worried scowl on his face.  Somehow, he wondered, it can't be all as simple as this.

   Salina Kyle had found her way to Wayne Manor and, much to her surprise, Alfred had allowed her in.  She asked to see Chloe Sullivan and was taken to the sitting room where the girls and Clark had been taken on their first night there to meet Bruce.  

   Walking the perimeter of the room, Salina admired all the expensive knick-knacks that were spread around the decor.  Picking up a small silver statue of a small boy firing and arrow, she marveled at how the street price she could get for the item would feed and house her for a month.  Checking over her shoulder, she slipped the small object into her large handbag.

   "Salina?" Chloe's voice got her attention.

   Salina turned quickly toward her hostess hoping that her small indigestion was not seen.  "Chloe," she forced a smile over her nerves.  "I'm so happy to see you."

   "Me too," Chloe gave her a hug.  "I was worried after you disappeared last night.  Did you go to the emergency room on your own?"

   "Oh, I'm fine," Salina shook off the notion.  "I just saw you were with your friends, and I thought you might want to be alone."

   "Well, you thought wrong," Chloe motion her good arm to take a seat on one of the sofas.  "I told Lana and Bruce how we helped to save each other and they wanted to make sure you were okay, too."

   Salina sat on the opposite sofa from the one Chloe placed herself on.  "Well, I'm just not a people person," She lied.  "But I am happy to see that you are okay."

   "Where did you go last night?" Chloe asked.

   Salina looked away with an unease glance at the floor.  "I had some friends down town that gave me a place to crash for the night and some clean clothes," she explained.  "I thought about going to pick my stuff up at Morgan's, but I thought it would be better to just stay away from his place since he already tried to kill me once that night."

   "Has anyone heard from him?" Chloe asked.

   "No," Salina replied.  "I cased a few of his usual stops this morning, but it appears that he has made good on his pledge to go into hiding.  I'm sure he figured out that you already told the police your story, so he's probably out of the country by now."

   "I did tell the police," Chloe told her with a frown. "But they can't press any charges for Edge murdering Lex with out proof and my word just isn't going to cut it alone."  She gave a small smile.  "However, if someone was to come forward and back up what Morgan told me last night, then they might have a case."

   Looking across the coffee table, Salina gave her a questionable look.

   "I could use your help, Salina," Chloe clarified.  "Morgan Edge killed a very good friend of mine, and you could help me see that he stands trial for his murder."

   "I can't, Chloe," Salina hung her head.  "Morgan was my lover."

   "Who left you to die," Chloe reminded her.  "You do not owe him anything."

   "I owe him for taking me off the streets," she retorted.  "Even if it were only for a short few months, I can't forget that he gave me a place to belong for that short time."

   Chloe reached her hand across to Salina's.  "You were his sexual plaything, Salina.  He was not some hero for you."

   A tear trickled down her cheek.  "For the time we were together, he was,"

   "Please," Chloe pleaded.

   Salina stood up quickly.  "Don't you understand," she cried.  "Yes, I care for the man and he took care of me for a while, but everyone sees me as you do, Chloe.  I was no more than a warm body in his bed at night, and that is what the courts will see."

   Chloe watched silently as she walked to the opposite side of the sofa.

   "People who do what I do to survive are non-persons in the eye of the law," Salina explained nervously.  "What we do to save our lives, they see as tossing our lives away.  We are not lawful or honest, so therefore we do not matter."

   "That's not true," Chloe protested.  "You matter."

   Salina inspected her for a moment.  "I matter to you because we shared a life or death situation last night, but think back, Chloe.  What did you think of me before you gave me two minutes of your time?"

   This time Chloe lowered her head in shame.

   "That's right," Salina said with a soft but harsh tone.  "If, for some unexplained reason, the police believe me and they find Morgan and bring him to trial, then I would have to sit up on the witness stand and tell them what I know.  They would then bring up the fact of how Morgan I got to know each other, and they might even bring up my own questionable legal history, but most of all, they will tell the whole world who and what I am. Every one of those jurists will see me as the hopeless runaway prostitute who was scorned by a man twice her age and is only looking for payback.  My story, as well as your credibility, will be thrown out of court."

   A tear was now rolling down Chloe's face.  "But you are so much more than that, Salina.  We just have to make them see that."

   Salina walked back to the coffee table and sat herself before Chloe on the edge of the wood structure.  "No one else will see that," she said softly.  "You are the first person who has even given me the benefit of a doubt in the last two years, girl.  To the rest of the world I am trash and always will be.  That's the way the world works."

   "It's not fair," Chloe almost pouted.  "You can be something special if just given a chance."

   "And for a hundred bucks and warm body, I am for about an hour at a time," Salina forced a smile She leaned forward and kissed Chloe forehead. 

   "We could have been good friends in another place and time, Chloe," Salina forced a smile through her tears.  "But we come from two different worlds."

   "What," Chloe sniffed.  "What will you do now?"

   Salina gave a heavy sigh.  "The only thing I can do," she replied.  "There's no time for regrets for Salina Kyle.  I need to brush myself off and go to doing the only thing I know how to do."

   "Oh, Salina," Chloe gushed.  

   "I'll be okay," Salina promised.  "Everyone hates their job."

   Chloe wiped away a few stray tears as Salina picked up her bag and walked to the door.  "But it's like Morgan always told me, Chloe.  I am a survivor.  Salina Kyle has more lives than an alley cat."

   Chloe met her at the door and the two young women hugged for a long moment.  "I still believe in you, Salina," she said into her ear.

   Salina pulled herself away, wiping her own tears.  She could not say another word and stepped out of the room. Stepping into the long hall, she looked back as Chloe closed the door, unable to watch as her friend left.

   The walk to the front door was long and arduous for her as she walked away from the only person who thought more of Salina then she had ever thought of herself. Yet, she knew even with the best intentions, Chloe would never be able to save her from herself.  She would try, that much Salina was sure of, but in the end, she would only bring her new friend down with her, and she already loved this blond firecracker too much to do that to her.

   Alfred stood at the door with a smile holding it open for Salina as she approached.  The young girl smiled at the older gentleman who gave her a slight bow as she passed.  In the doorframe she stopped and turned back.

   "Is there a problem?" Alfred questioned with true concern.

   Salina shook her head as if waking from a trance.  "No," she smiled reaching into her shoulder bag.  "This is a nice spread you have here, Al."

   "Thank you, young miss," Alfred returned as he watched her pull a small silver object from her purse.

   Salina handed Alfred the Silver statue.  "Don't tell Chloe," she said with a tender smile placing the object in his hand.  "She's too good for people like me."

   Alfred looked down at the familiar knick-knack as Salina walked off the stoop.  He watched as the young beauty made her way down the driveway and out the through the electronically controlled gates.

   Deep down in his heart, Alfred had the sinking feeling that he had not seen the last of this raven-haired vixen in the Wayne Manor.

   Perry White had wanted his first stop in the morning to be at the hospital to check up on Nell and see if his impassioned plea to the doctor had touched a chord in the man's heart. Except the message that Chloe had left in his voice box had sparked his interest. He knew he had to get to his office at the Daily Planet and start typing up the story while the details were still fresh in his mind.  The facts would require hours of research and verifications, and he still had not gotten a one-on-one interview with his prime witness, but he knew he had enough to start the groundwork on the story and type up the outline before he would return her phone call.

   He was frantically typing away on his keyboard when a young, dark-haired copy boy approached his desk.  The young man was pushing a mail cart and chewed loudly on his gum when he stopped before Perry.

   "I got a package for you, chief," he said reading the label.

   "The name's Perry, kid," he grunted not looking up from his keyboard.

   "You're all chief to me, chief," the teen stated.

   "Fine," Perry sighed in defeat.  "I guess it's kinda flattering to be called chief."

   "Yeah, sure," Johnnie replied snapped his gum.  "Whatever, chief."

   Perry took the parcel box from the young man and looked at the label.  "Oh, my God," he said under his breath.  "This is from Morgan Edge in Gotham City.  He must have had this couriered overnight."

   "What is it?" Johnnie asked.

   "What ever it is," Perry grinned from ear to ear.  "This could be the last confession of a dead man."

   Jonnie gave the elder man a strange once over.

   Eagerly Perry ripped into the box and found it filled with legal forms and requisite forms from Luthor Corps."

   "What are those," Jonnie asked picking up a few forms that Perry had moved aside.

   Perry looked up at him with the same smile, only bigger.  "This is the mother load, kid.  These forms will substantiate Chloe's claim and possibly send Lionel Luthor to prison for the rest of his foreseeable life span."

   Jonnie snapped his gum again dropped the forms back on Perry's desk,  "Whatever, chief," he stated pushing his cart to the next stop.

   Perry continued to flip through the forms with a new glow.  This was the type of mornings all hard hitting journalist prayed for.

   Pete Ross was ruffled and wringed as he woke up in the back seat of his small car.  After escaping the Luthor Corps building, he had driven himself to the out skirts of Metropolis, not sure of what his next move should be.  His search of the primacies the night before had proven interesting, but unclear as to what Lionel was hiding.  Lionel did not seem the type that would have a mental breakdown, even if he were the last man on Earth, much less the last Luthor.  Pete was sure that Lionel's illness was part of the ruse.  Lionel did not want him to leave the building and sent his personal hit man to stop him.  This was not the action of a man who was not thinking clearly.

   Then there was the clue.  Pete reached down to the floorboard and pulled up a wooden object that had once been a crude carving of a horse.  When he had swung the object at Randolph's head to make his escape, a mental picture came to Pete's mind.  He had been hit on the head earlier that night himself, and when he awoke, he found Lionel with a baseball bat, but in his mind's eye, Pete could clearly see that the object was much smaller and rounded in a football like manner, and not a bat.  Looking at the horse he held up to the early summer light, Pete was sure that this horse was the weapon used to assault him and not the baseball bat.  All of it led to more suspicions as to what really happened in that dark closet last night.  If the bat did not hit him, then did Lionel hit him at all?  It was unclear to Pete how long he was knocked out, but he did wonder if it were enough time for Lionel and Randolph to make a switch.

   The questions kept coming to Pete as he sat pondering the possibilities, but the biggest question still remained.  Why was this horse vaguely familiar to Pete even before last night.  He had seen it somewhere before, but the memory was unclear.

   As the heat of the day began to build, so did Pete's self-assuredness that this was the clue that would end Lionel Luthor's entire game.  All he needed to do now was remember why this clue was important to him.

   Lana had spent a good part of the morning hours looking for Bruce on the grounds of Wayne Manor when she finally came across him sitting in the large library.  He was busy typing away at his computer as she made her way across the large hard wood floor.

   "Bruce," she made her presence known softly.  "I've been looking for you."

   "Oh, yeah," he looked up then back at the computer screen.  "I've been out most of the morning and just got back."

   "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" she asked.  "I thought we were going to have breakfast together."

   "I couldn't," he said with his mind on other matters.  "I was making last minute plans."

   "Plans," she looked over his shoulder as she came around the desk.  "You're buying airline tickets?"

   "One airline ticket," he corrected.

   "To Bangkok?" she asked.

   "Yeah," Bruce half smiled at his screen.  "I've been reading some real good stuff about a new form of martial arts that has been discovered in the mountains of Tibet, and there's a guide in Bangkok who can lead me to this one particular master of the studies."

   She read from the monitor.  "You're getting a ticket for today."

   "I leave in two hours," he said with a grin.  "I was lucky enough to get a seat on the Concord and then a connecting flight from there.  The guide gave me two days to get there, or he would take on another client."

   "I don't understand," Lana almost gasped.  "What is this all about?  Why are you leaving in such a hurry?" She lowered her head.  "Why are you leaving me?"

   For the first time, Bruce stopped what he was doing and turned to her.  "Leaving you?"

   "I," she was hesitant to continue.  "I thought we made a real connection the last few days."

   "We did," Bruce took her hand in his.  "You have been a great friend, Lana.  But I hope you realize we could never be anything more."

   "I thought we were more," she turned away.  "I thought you were starting to fall for me like I was for you."

   "You were falling for me?" he questioned in complete ignorance.

   "We kissed, Bruce," she reminded him.  "I thought that meant something to you."

   A blank stare came across his face.

   "Oh, Bruce," she gasped as she saw his confusion.  "How could you kiss me when it didn't mean anything to you?"

   "I kissed you because you wanted me to," he returned.  "Lana, you have to understand that you are still underage. I like you, but you are a child.  Besides, don't you have a boyfriend in the service?"

   Now it was Lana's turn for a blank stare.

   Bruce stood up and held her by the shoulders.  "Don't you understand what happened to me last night, Lana?  I surrendered myself to that place in my soul that has been calling to me for years, and I realized what I wanted to do with the rest of my life."

   A tear rolled down Lana's face as he continued.  "The dark knight has come to the service at long last, and he is in control now.  I have to be what he wants me to be."

   "Bruce," she pulled away.  "You're scaring me again."

   "I'm sorry, Lana," he lowered his head.  "It's just that last night I discovered the real me, and now I know what I have to do with the rest of my life.  I have to let that dark space inside of me take control, and I need to use my wealth, training and abilities to help avenge crime so some other poor child doesn't have to live with loss like I did with the death of my parents."

   "I thought we agreed that you can't fight the evils of the world all by yourself, Bruce," she cried.  "You're just one man, Bruce, not a comic book."

   "I'm sorry Lana," he sighed.  "I have had this longing inside of my soul for a much longer time than I have known you.  I need to follow my destiny. Even if nothing ever comes from this journey, I have to take the chance and see where this course will lead me"

   "And what about our destiny?" she looked up with sad eyes.

   "We never had a future, Lana," Bruce said softly.  "The fates saw to that long before we even took our first breaths."  He pulled her into a hug.  "You are a sweet and good person, Lana, and you have helped your friends get some answers for themselves, but the journey is over now.  We had a nice time together, but now it's time to get back to our own lives."

   "Bruce," she cried as he pulled away.

   He placed a tender finger on her lips.  "Don't make this more than it is, Lana," he gave her a half smile.  "I will always remember our time together, but it's finished."

   Lana watched helplessly as he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone in the large empty library with her own grief.  She grasped the edge of the desk and allowed herself to sink to the floor in a puddle of her own tears.

   Bruce found Alfred waiting in the hall outside of the library when he left the room.  It was unclear how he did it, but the manservant always seemed to know where to be at the right time.  He gave Bruce a firm look as he exited.

   What?" Bruce questioned his elder.

   "You were rather harsh with the young lady," Alfred told him with certainty.  

   "I had to do it, Alfred," Bruce sighed heavily hearted.

   "I thought you were beginning to care for the young woman," Alfred spoke softly so Lana would not hear.  "I have not seen you take such a genuine shine to another girl in a very long time."

   "I did," Bruce, confirmed, as his eyes seemed to drift back into the memories of his mind.  "But I can not afford the luxury of love in my life right now."

   "You are young and lonely Master Bruce," Alfred protested.  "When will it be the time for love?"

   Bruce looked at his mentor with a firm resolve.  "When the journey of the bat is finish, Alfred.  Not until the journey is over."

   Alfred watched as Bruce walked away down the empty corridor, off into his destiny.

      The corridors of Metropolis General Hospital were teaming again with people going about their daily activities as Doctor Phillip Burns made his way towards Nell Potter's room that late morning.  He could hear several voices as he opened the door to enter, and much to his own surprise, one of the sounds belonged to Nell herself.

   When he opened the door, he found that she had two new guests in the room with her.  When he got a look at the man and the woman, Burns remembered where he had seen them before.  "Mr. and Mrs. Kent," he forced a smile.

   "Doctor Burns?" Martha was surprised to see him.  "I didn't realize you were the doctor on Nell's chart."

   "So you remember me," he tried to make small talk.

   "We remember that you helped Lionel frame us for his son's death," Jonathan said harshly.

   "I assure you that I only supplied Mr. Luthor with the facts," he defended himself.  "He was also kind enough to ask me to care for Miss Potter while she was here."

   "Yeah," Jonathan grunted.  "Lionel's a real sweat heart that way.  He tries to get you out of the picture, and then worries about your health."

   Burns gave Jonathan a rye look as he walked past, towards Nell.

   "Good morning," he smiled as the woman who was awake, but still very much weak from her ordeal.  "It's nice to have you back in the world of the living, Miss Potter."

   "Doctor," she looked up with frail eyes.  "What happened to me, how did I get here?"

   "You mean your friends didn't tell you?" he asked looking over his shoulder at the Kents.

   "They said I was attacked at the Luthor Corps parking lot," she replied.  "But I don't remember that."

   "Then tell us what you do remember," Martha coaxed from the opposite side of the bed.

   Nell thought hard as she told them, "I was inside the building.  I was waiting for Lionel and I think I was looking around."

   "Looking," Jonathan repeated.  "What for?"

   "I don't know," she said with a frown.  "I remember opening several doors, but I can't remember if I saw anything."

   Doctor Burns listen intently as she spoke, but he didn't want to speak and risk suspicion.

   "What about your head?" Martha asked.  "Do you remember hitting your head?"

   Nell sat silent for a long few minutes.

   "This is going nowhere," Burns insisted finally finding his voice and hoping to put an end to the questions.  "You are tiring Miss Potter out on her first day back from a coma.  You should leave now."

   Martha and Jonathan looked at each other and were about to move when Nell spoke up again.

   "Lionel," she said loudly.  "I remember Lionel and I were talking.  He grabbed my arm and I struggled to have him let go," her eyes became watery.  "I turned quickly, and then everything went black."

   "Did Lionel hit you?" Jonathan asked.

   "Perhaps Miss Potter is remembering when she was trying to get away from her attacker in the garage, but has confused the information," Burns added in.  "It's very common to get such details mixed up after a head trauma."

   "He must be right," Nell replied.  "Because I don't remember any more."

   Burns took her pulse.  "You have upset my patient.  I must ask you now to leave."

   "First," Jonathan grabbed doctor Burn's arm.  "I think you and I should have a little talk in the hall."

   Burns protested as Jonathan pulled him out of the room.  Once alone, Martha turned her attention back to Nell.

   "I'm sorry, Nell," she spoke with warm eyes and a soft tone.  "But I need you to try and remember everything you know.  Our children's lives may depend on it."

   Nell looked up at her with sad eyes.  "I know that there is more, Martha," she returned.  "I just can't put all the pieces together right now.  All I can tell you is that Lionel is hiding something but I can't remember what.  We were fighting about it when I blacked out.  That much I know, but if Burns is working for Lionel, I can't let him know until I can complete all the details."

   Martha hung her head as she sighed.  "I'm so sorry, Nell. You have been through so much already.  Try and get some rest, and when you remember, Jonathan and I will be right here to help you figure out what it means"

   Nell grasped her hand.  "I'm sorry, Martha," she cried.  "Perhaps tomorrow I'll remember more."

   In the hall, Dr. Burns shook himself free from Jonathan's grasp  "Unhand me," he demanded.  "I should have security remove you from this building right now."

   "Do that doctor, and I'll tell the world how you are in with Lionel Luthor to keep Nell Potter under wraps."

   "How dare you, Mr. Kent," he protested.  "I have never been so rudely treated."

   "Oh, yes, you have," another voiced joined in from a few feet away.  "You and I did this same dance last night."

   They both turned to see Perry White approaching.

   "Not you again," he grumbled.  

   "It's me, Doctor Phil," Perry smiled.  "And I heard you were released this morning, Mr. Kent."

   "Both my wife and I were released on bail," Jonathan shook his hand.  "I was not aware that you and Dr. Burns knew each other when I dragged him out here and was about to warn him not to harm Nell anymore."

   "Oh, Phil and I go all the way back to last night," Perry responded sarcastically.  "But I must admit that the old Doc here may not be such a bad guy.  It's seems that our little talk last night had some lasting effects, and low and behold, today Nell is awake."

   "Are you saying that my suspicions about this are right?" Jonathan asked.  

   "Well, that would not be for me to say," Perry rubbed the back of his neck.  "We'll have to see what the grand jury has to say about our friends doctoring."

   "Grand jury?" Burns spoke up.

   "Yeah, remember that friend of mine over at Star Labs I told you about last night?" He grinned.  "It seems she turned the information over to medical licensing board as well as the FBI.  They have decided to take a closer look at your practice, Doctor Burns, and from what they know already from the Potter and Luthor cases, you have been a very bad boy."

   "What have you done," Burns grunted.

   "I only did what I said I would," Perry replied.  "I'm told that you are being suspended from medicine until the inquiry is finished.  You should receive the injunction very soon."

   A scared look came over Burn's face.  "You idiot.  You have ruined my career and me.  My wife and kids will suffer for this.  We will never live it down."

   "If you think that's bad," Jonathan added.  "Wait until Lionel discovers your faulty career poses a lot of questions about him as well."

   "I did what you asked," Burns said to Perry with a defeated tone.  "I did what you asked."

   "I'm sorry, Doctor," Perry truly was.  "But once I handed those files to Star Labs, the ball was out of my court.  It's up to the government now."

   Burns propped himself up against the wall.  "It's over," he sighed.  "My career and my life are over."

   Both Jonathan and Perry felt bad for the guy, but he did bring it on himself by teaming up with Lionel Luthor.  Now his entire world was coming apart.

   Jonathan stepped back into the room as Perry leaned over into Burns' ear.  "There's an old saying in the news paper business," he told him.  "If you lay down with the dogs, then you better be ready to wake up with the fleas."

   He too slipped into the room and left Burns standing alone in the crowded hallway.

   Maggie Butterfold huddled in the corner of the small room empty room when she heard the key in the door being turned.  She had been placed there during the night and was not aware of what would happen to her.  All she knew was that Lionel Luthor had asked to see her, and he was not going to take no for an answer.

   The dim light from the hall was blinding as it shone in her frail eyes.  She had been crying most of the night in the absolute darkness, and her eyes were now blood shot and sore.  

   A shadow stepped into the room from the hall and hung over her.

   "Maggie," the voice said with a strong hint of disappointment.  "You have been a very bad girl, my dear."

   Blinking twice rapidly cleared enough of her sight, that Maggie could see her guest was Lionel Luthor himself.

   "Mr. Luthor," she huffed with baited breath.  

   "Yes, dear," he swatted before her.  "I hear that you had a very eventful night with that reporter from the Daily Planet."

   "I didn't tell him anything," she said with haste.  

   "We go back a long way, Maggie," he smirked.  "There is no need for you to lie to me.  I know you went to the hospital to tell him that Nell was in my office when she had her accident."

   "He suspected already," Maggie insisted.  "I didn't try to make any trouble."

   "I know," he ran his hand across her face with a smile.  "It's my fault.  I never gave you a chance to mend your mistake when you let Nell into my office alone.  I acted out of haste when I fired you."

   She stared up at him with a confused look.

   "That's right, Maggie," he grinned again.  "I fired you when I should have been more understanding.  Could you ever forgive me?"

   "I," she stuttered.  "I don't understand.  Are you saying you want me to take my job back?  That everything is forgiven?"

   "There's nothing to forgive, Maggie," he patted her head.

   "But you had me held in this closet the whole night," she reminded him.  "Why would you do that if you are forgiving me?"

   "A misunderstanding," he said standing to his feet pulling her up to hers.  "My men were to have you wait in one of the offices upstairs and then they forgot where they placed you."

   Maggie was not naive enough to believe him, but she was not about to question his sudden generous state of mind.

   "So," he started again.  "Let us put all this mess behind us, and we start anew.  In the morning of course."

   "Yes, of course," Maggie smiled for the first time in two days.  "I would like that very much, sir,"

   "Very good," Lionel turned away.  "Now you go home and get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."

   Maggie was excited as she stepped out into the service hall in the Luthor Corps basement with him.  She was not sure if going back to work for Lionel was a smart thing to do at that time, but she knew it was far better than any possibility she had dreamed up during the night.

   "Thank you again, Mister Luthor," she replied as he walked away.

   "No problem," he waved behind himself to her.  "James will take you home," he said as she noticed one of his men standing behind her waiting.

   James gestured for her to follow her down another hall when Lionel stopped and turned back just as she had turned away.

   "Oh, one more thing, Maggie," he called out.

   Maggie's blood ran cold by the sound of his voice.  She had known him long enough to know that there was more to this story, and the hammer was about to fall.

   "Yes, Mister Luthor," she turned back forcing a smile.

   "Your daughter was looking for you all night," he smirked.  "You might want to give her a call."

   "My daughter," Maggie questioned.  "She lives with her husband in Topeka."

   "Yes, but she was called in on a family emergency," Lionel explained.  "It's seems while he was worrying and waiting for you to come home last night, your husband had another heart attack."

   "Oh, my Lord," Maggie gasped.

   "He's in Metropolis General," Lionel continued.  "James can take you there if you prefer.  I'm told he will be better after surgery."

   "Oh, my Joe," Maggie cried.

   Lionel turned away with another smirk.  "I shall expect you bright and early in the morning, Margaret. Oh, and welcome back to Luthor Corps."

   Maggie had to be helped down the hall by her driver as he led her to the car.

   Alfred had let himself into Clark's room when there was no answer at the door.  Clark had not come down to breakfast, and had not been seen out of his room the whole morning.  It was now approaching lunchtime, and Alfred had decided to check in on his new young friend.

   When he entered the large quarters, all was just as it had been when he had left Clark several hours earlier.  He made his way across the room and saw that the teenager was still standing on the small balcony.

   "Master Clark," Alfred announced himself.

   Clark did not respond.  He stood as silent as one of the stone statues on the lawn, watching into the swaying trees in the distant field.

   "Master Clark," Alfred repeated placing a tender hand on his shoulder.

   Clark's eyes seemed to tear up but he did not allow himself to release them.  "It can't be over, Alfred."

   Alfred remained silent out of respect for Clark's grief.  He wanted to comfort the younger man, but he knew that Clark had to work through these emotions if he were going to be able to function again.

   "Everyone thinks I came here to find Lex's killer," Clark told him with a monotone voice.  "But that was only part of the story, Alfred.  I came here to find Lex."

   "But Mr. Luthor is still dead, is he not?" Alfred asked.

   "Yeah," Clark let his head sink into his chest.  "I don't know why, but I built up this hope inside of me that the phone call was real, and that his attackers had found a way to kidnap him and when I found them, I would find him.  Then I would save him, and I would bring him home and protect him until he could take care of himself again."

   "I am sure that you would have done so, too," Alfred affirmed.  "A young man with your abilities would be a very able-body defender."

   Clark turned with a shocked look.

   "Have no fear, Master Clark," Alfred smiled.  "I assure you that no one is aware but myself.  I had the fence with the bent metal bars repaired, I burned the suit last night, and Doctor Thompkins reset my wrist earlier in the day.  The ladies and Master Bruce have not even questioned the brace," he held up his broken wrist.

   "Alfred," Clark began to protest.

   "Your secret is safe with me, young sir," Alfred assured him.  "You need never worry about your identity being revealed.  After all, we all have our own little foibles to cover."

   "I'm sorry," Clark said with eyes.  "About the wrist, I mean."

   "I have suffered far greater damage while attempting to act as Master Bruce's sparring partner, so have no further concern in the matter."

   Clark knew he should be more worried that another person was on to his secrets, but his mind was already engrossed with other matters, and he turned away again.

   "Could I get you something, Master Clark?" Alfred asked.

   "Unless it's about six feet tall, bald, and thinks of me as a little brother," Clark smirked slightly at his own little joke.  "Then the answer would be no, Alfred.  Thank you, but I just want to be alone."

   "Of course," Alfred nodded.  "I shall be within ear shot should you require my assistance."

   Alfred stopped before he stepped off the balcony.  "Forgive me for saying so, young sir," he spoke cautiously.  "Perhaps you are feeling incomplete because the journey is not yet truly finished."

   Clark gave him a questionable look.

   "Perhaps," Alfred continued.  "It is not time to give up on young Mister Luthor just yet."

   Clark was deep in the thought of his meaning when Alfred stepped out of the room.

   Lionel Luthor stood over the bed where Lex laid motionless just staring up at the ceiling.  He and his son had never been close, and he usually thought of Lex as a trophy or prize that he had been rewarded with in life, and had to mold into his own image. Today, Lionel looked down of the soul known Luthor heir, and felt a hint of remorse for what he had been putting the young man through.

   Placing his hand over the silent son's forehead, Lionel comforted his own self-doubt in the assuredness that he was doing the best thing.  Perhaps Lex was suffering now and had even retreated from the world of reality, but in the future, there would be a Luthor successor to step forward and claim the mantel of Luthor Corps and to carry on the long line of the Luthor name.

   "Yes," Lionel grinned.  "Hate me now, my son, but in the future, when all that is Luthor is yours, you shall look back at me as your savior and protector."

   Lionel's attention was drawn away from his non-responsive son by the sounds of footsteps on the linoleum floor behind him.  He turned and saw his young chief of security standing in wait.

   "What do you have to tell me, Randolph?" Lionel grunted.

   "Things have started going wrong sir," Randolph responded.  "Morgan Edge has completely disappeared and no one has any idea where he has gone."

   "He will lay low like the snake that he is," Lionel retorted.  "His type never stays gone forever."

   "We still don't know what he said to whom, but word is that Perry White has received a phone call from Miss Chloe Sullivan early this morning, and he has been working frantically on a story for tomorrow's Daily Planet, ever since."

   A worried crease crossed Lionel's brow.

   "My informant at the Planet said that Perry White received an overnight parcel from Gotham this morning, and Detective Henderson from the Metropolis police department has been seen speaking to him shortly after."

   "Morgan had something on us," Lionel grunted.  "And now the MPD has it."

   "Now would be a good time to call in some favors, sir," Randolph suggested.

   "All in good time," Lionel replied.

   "There's more, sir," Randolph continued.  "It's unclear how it happened, but Nell Potter has awoken from her coma, and we have lost contact with Doctor Burns.  Our sources at the hospital say that there have been questions circling about his practice, and they are expecting an indictment to be set against him."

   "Burns was a risk from the start," Lionel told him.  "But he was the best I could do at such short notice.  We must sever all ties to him at once."

   "Of course sir," Randolph returned.  "The process has already been set in motion."

   Lionel finally turned to face him.  "Is there anything else to report?" He asked.  "What have you discovered about our intruder from last night?"

   "Only that he has never worked for the temp service we use, and he stole his uniform from the storage closet without anyone's knowledge."  Randolph replied.  "No one else in the building besides us and the security cameras ever got a look at him.  We are trying to run a trace on his facial features, but have not been having much luck so far."

   A sour look grew across Lionel's face.  "They are getting close, Randolph," he growled.  "It has become to dangerous for Lex here."

   "I know sir," Randolph pulled a folder from behind him.  "I did some research and I found this private facility upstate that might be able to solve our problems."

   Lionel took the folder and began to read.

   "Our own staff doctor has recommended it, sir," he explained as Lionel read.  "According to him, they have experience with people in your son's condition.  They claim that he has retreated into his own sub conscious mind, but he will only be able to remain there for a short time.  When he returns, his behavior can go one of two ways.  He could either give in and become completely passive and non responsive, or he will become violent and become a risk to everything and everyone including himself."

   "There is also a chance that he will recover completely," Lionel corrected.

   "Under normal circumstances, yes," Randolph agreed.  "But Lex has been severely traumatized, and you telling him that he killed his best friend and the only person he believed would be able to save him, has sent him over the edge.  Perhaps permanently."

   "What are you saying?" Lionel looked at him with concern.

   "I'm saying that in spite of all that he had been through," Randolph told him.  "He had one great hope to cling to, and now that is gone.  Lex's spirit has been broken.  He has given up all hope of ever being saved."

   "But I saved him," Lionel turned quickly back to his son.  "I saved him."

   "In his mind," Randolph said as Lionel leaned over his son.  "You are his captor and the person he needs saving from.  Now his hope is gone, and perhaps his mind as well."

   Lionel stared into his son's eyes for any signs of life he could find, but they were void and lifeless as he stared past his father to the same two ceiling tiles he had stared at for the past twelve hours.  His hands began to tremble as he ran it over Lex's head again.

   "Mr. Luthor," Randolph called out to his employer.

   "It wasn't suppose to be like this, son," Lionel said softly into his ear.  "You were suppose to thank me for saving you, and then we would work together side by side, two Luthors."

   The same vacant stare was all Lex had to offer his father.

   "Even now, you should wake up and I would explain everything to you," Lionel spoke as his eyes began to glisten.  "Then you would understand, and I would protect you until Morgan Edge was destroyed, and we would rule Luthor Corps together as father and son, as it was always meant to be."

   There was no response or movement from Lex, other than the same rhythmic rising and falling of his chest with each passing breath.  Wherever Lex had retreated to, he was not coming back any time soon.

   "Mr. Luthor," Randolph interrupted softly again.

   "This facility," Lionel finally responded to him.  "Will Lex be safe and well cared for there?"

   "It's a private hospital that few people have ever even heard of, and is very well staffed with and excellent record." Randolph explained.  "It's also has no connections to Luthor Corps in any way, and is listed as a mental facility."

   "Meaning?"

   "Meaning," he returned.  "No one will be looking for a person recovering from a car crash in Psychiatric Hospital.  We will also have him registered under an assumed name.  Even if they do know who he is, no one will say anything.  These people have handled this type of case before."

   "Very well," Lionel nodded still looking down at his son.  "If the police have any proof against me from Edge, then they could be here at any moment with a search warrant.  We need to get my son into hiding, tonight."

   "Yes sir," Randolph smiled behind Lionel's left shoulder from the doorway.  "And I promise you, sir," he added.  "Where Lex is going, no one will ever find him."

   Lionel spoke not a word, but looked down at his son one final time.

   Lex stared up vacantly as the ceiling tiles while his fate had been decided for him.

   A few hours later and nearly fifteen hundred miles away, Clark Kent stood in the warm evening breeze as the world passed by him.  He was young, healthy, and alive, and for all he cared, he was lost.  His mission was a successful failure, and his one true desire for the outcome was lost forever.   Clark leaned his head against the brick wall of the Wayne Manor on his balcony and allowed his sorrow to flow.

   In the distance, a song began to play against the backdrop of life.

***Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely by Backstreet Boys***

   Clark covered his face with his hands.

***Show me the meaning of being lonely***

   He allowed his form to slide down the wall until he was on his knees.

***So many words for the broken heart***

   He leaned forward as his grief got the better of him.

***It's hard to see in a crimson love***

   Clark began to shake as a sudden summer rain began to fall.

***So hard to breathe***

   He looked into the heavens.

***Walk with me, and maybe***

   Somewhere, Lex was pulled up in his bed.

***Nights of light so soon become***

   Randolph watched as two men in white coats placed him in a wheel chair.

***Wild and free I could feel the sun***

   Lionel watched from the door as they wheeled Lex pass him.

***Your every wish will be done***

   Lex watched with vacant eyes as empty halls passed before him.

***They tell me...***

   The attendant spun the chair around and backed into the elevator.

***Show me the meaning of being lonely***

   The elevator doors closed.

***Is this the feeling I need to walk with***

   Elsewhere, Clark pulled his knees to his chest.

***Tell me why I can't be there where you are***

   Alfred watched down on him from an opened window.

***There's something missing in my heart***

   He pulled the drapes close and allowed Clark his privacy.

***Life goes on, as it never ends***

   Two flights below, Lana walks under the balcony deep in thought.

***Eyes of stone observe the trends***

   She stopped at the marked graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

***They never say forever gaze if only***

   She was crying.

***Guilty roads to an endless love***

   Bruce picked up his drink in first class seat.

***There's no control***

   He took a sip staring out the window.

***Are you with me now***

   He pulled a news magazine clipping from his pocket.

***Your every wish will be done**

   He stared at Lana's 'three year old face' in a Time magazine.

***They tell me***

   Bruce leaned back in his chair and turned to the window again

***Show me the meaning of being lonely***

   Chloe looked up from her laptop in the Wayne Library.

***Is this the feeling I need to walk with***

   She shrugged her sore shoulder and grimaced.

***Tell me why I can't be there where you are***

   She placed a tender hand on her hurt and spun the chair around.

***There's something missing in my heart***

   Chloe watched the rainfall outside the large windows.

***There's nowhere to run***

   Elsewhere, Salina stood on a street corner in revealing garments.

***I have no place to go***

   A car pulled up in front of her and she leaned in.

***Surrender my heart' body and soul***

  A male hand held up money in her face.

***How can it be you're asking me to feel the things you never show***

   She glanced up at the rain with pain in her eyes and Salina opened the door and got in.

***(Music interlude)***

   A couple of detectives walked into Lionel office and handed him a search warrant.

   He faked a smile as several officers began to swarm the entire room.

   One policewoman opened the door to the emptied bedroom and then turned back.

***You are missing in my heart***

   Lex was riding silently in the back of a van with blackened windows.

***Tell me why I can't be there where you are***

   A passing street light glimmered across his face revealing a tear was on his cheek.

***Show me the meaning of being lonely***

   Pete looked up at the Metropolis General Hospital sign holding up the wooden horse.

***Is this the feeling I need to walk with***

   Jonathan and Martha appeared before him with a shocked look..

***Tell me why I can't be there where you are***

   Martha grasped the horse with a smile.

***There's something missing in my heart***

   Two flights above, Dr. Burns laid in a pool of his own blood, while the gun smoked in his hand.

***Show me the meaning of being lonely***

   Clark looked up from his silent prayer.

***Is this the feeling I need to walk with***

   He rose to his feet and rushed through his room picking up his coat.

***Tell me why I can't be there where you are***

   Alfred spotted him in the hall and Clark nodded his head knowingly.

***There's something missing in my heart***

   With a determined look, Clark set out the Wayne Manor's front door with a purpose.

   It was about an hour later when Chloe came running into Clark's room holding up the cell phone from Perry White.  She had a large smile on her face as she announced, "Clark, Perry is on the phone with Pete and your folks, and they may have found something."

   She stopped in her tracks when she saw that Alfred was alone in the room changing the linen.

   Chloe stopped at the foot of the bed and gave him a questionable look.  "What's going on here?  Where's Clark?"

   Alfred placed the newly cover pillow on the bed and looked up at her.  "I am afraid you have missed Master Clark," he told her.  "He has decided to continue his quest on his own.  Clark is gone."

   With her jaw sprung open, Chloe dropped the phone to the floor in shock.

TO BE CONCLUDED

***Notes***

Another week, and another group of reviews, thank you all again.  It means so much to me.

To Brennan:  Thanks for reading again.  I guess you and MitchPell have been reading the some of the same stories, so thanks for taking time with mine's.

To MitchPell:  Thanks for coming back and the kind words.  The horse is becoming a big clue, but now, it may be too little too late.  Lionel is cruel, but I hope I have been able to show in the chapter and others, that he never meant to hurt Lex, but to keep him safe, even if he has gone about it in the wrong way.  As for the take on what will happen next, I think a wrench has been thrown into that possibility, or has it?

To Merrie:  Thank you so much for building me up with each review.  I just hope you think I continue to live up to such high standards.  Let's see if I can wow you again.

Oh, thanks for the nod, but to here someone say that they are a fan, only brings back real bad 'Mommy Dearest' flashbacks.  But thanks for the consideration.

To Angledust:  I am so proud, and thank you for your kind review.  

To Shortperson: Thanks for the correction on the doctor MD thing.

To Suz:  Thank for your review again.  I look forward to all the regulars.  Thanks for the Pete and Dr. Burns nods.  I also agreed that the Kents not knowing Clark was sick was for the best.  I have to admit, I like the Bruce in the trench coat bit too.  As for Alfred, whom we now know has figured out at least part of Clark's secret and the suite, the suite was ripped to small shreds in the bathroom when Clark removed it from his body.  My assumption would be that a two thousand dollar suite would be very well made and would not have ripped to small swatches as shown.  I'm sorry if it was clear.  As for Lionel, the image of a dead Clark was sick, but Lionel needed to drive his story home.

Thanks again for all the kind words.

To LaCasta:  Thanks for your comments.  I am glad you like my take on the Bat.

Well that ends another week, and I want to thank everyone who read my story so far.  I also must sadly inform you that there is not going to be a new chapter next week, as I have yet to even start writing chapter twenty, and I would not do it justice by trying to rush it out.  It should be the final chapter, and it has to be special, but at this time the holidays have slowed me down and I am with out the next part, but I promise I will have it up as soon as possible.  I'm shooting for the first Monday in 2003, so please keep watching and I am sorry for the in conveyance.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Best Wishes and God Bless

Please remember to keep the Christ in Christmas

Phaze


	20. Update

Hey Gang,  
  
I know it has been a while, but I wanted to let everyone know who might be interested, that I have not forgotten about this story, and Chapter Twenty is being proof read as we speak. I will make all efforts to have it out by next week. It's a long chapter, so I hope it will make up for the wait.  
  
Again I am sorry. This is why I usually write the whole story before I start posting. I guess this will be a good lesson for me in the future. So look for chapter twenty soon which ends the story, and then an epilogue to clean up any loose ends.  
  
Thank you all for caring, and please don't bust my knuckles because I'm running late. And I really mean that MitchPell. ; )  
  
Best Wishes and God Bless Phaze 


	21. Chapter Twenty

A Death In The Family: Chapter Twenty 

   The hot summer sun had given way to a balmy night sky over Metropolis by the time Clark Kent had made his way to the city.  He had run the whole way from Gotham and it was the furthest he had ever jogged in his life at such a high speed staying to the side roads and cropped filled fields in hopes of avoiding being seen.  He ran at his top speed, and much to his surprise, he found himself barely winded, but a slight bit tired from his ordeal still setting heavy on him from the night before.  

   The sprint between the two sprawling gateway cities had taken nearly two hours and when Clark Kent finally made it to the city of his destination, he was still unclear of where he should go.  After circling the city for about a half hour, he found himself standing in front of the mostly darken Luthor Corps building.  He stared up at the tall structure that reached to the heavens before him.  It was late, and Clark's true purpose for being here was unclear, even to him.  He had begun the journey several days earlier with a diffident intent to find his best friend who everyone had declared dead, and he thought he had heard his voice in a cry for help over a phone line, and thus a mystery was born.  In the past twenty-four hours, that mystery was solved and still the friend he had so diligently sought out was still among the deceased.  Yet a nagging feeling in the young man's heart was leading him to believe otherwise.  The same feeling that had leaded him to Metropolis and this building.

   Clark knew his only hope of satisfying the nagging nudging sensation was investigate further this long thought fortress of the Luthor secrets.  He entered the lobby and found that the entire building was buzzing with police activity and what must have been Luthor Corps employees answering questions and speaking with the various law enforcement agents.  The whole matter was puzzling at such a late hour, but Clark paid little attention as he made his way over to the elevator bank.  He watched back over his shoulder as he waited.  It surprised him that with so much activity, no one even gave him a second glance.  Nor did the police, who he was sure, have been searching for him only a day earlier even approach him.  The car door slid open, and Clark stepped into the silent elevator and began his assent to the main Luthor Corps offices on the top floor.

   The silence was at first welcomed, and then Clark remembered back at his last visit and could not help but wonder what had become of Lionel's reading of the annual report over the speaker system.  Everything about the Luthor Corps building seemed missed guided and out of place on that night, He simply took a deep breath and braced himself for what he was about to face in the corporate offices above.

   The door hummed opened and Clark stepped out onto a much more peaceful floor.  Much to his surprise, all the doors were opened and unlocked with the main entrance being propped open by a large planter.  It seemed that the police had wanted easy access to the entire facility and made sure that no doors would be beyond reach.

   Clark had to step out of the way as two uniform officers made there was pass with several Luthor Corps computers on a rolling cart.  They stepped onto the same elevator Clark had just exited and began their decent to the ground floor.

   Spinning in a circle, Clark could see a few other law enforcement officers and employees collecting files, disks and other office record keeping devises.  He made his way down the long corridor inside the executive offices until he was standing outside of Lionel Luthor's private domain.  He peaked his head in to find that there were two men still walking around.  One man looked up and recognized Clark and he made his way over to him.

   "Clark Kent," Perry White beamed his bright smile as he steadied his arm in the cast.  "I heard you left Gotham, but I had no idea that you would get here so fast."

   Clark gave him an uncomfortable smile.  "Mr. Wayne's butler helped me get the quickest flight out," he lied to protect his real mode of transportation.  "What is going on here?"

   "A police investigation, young man," the second man said making his way over to the desk where they stood.  "Perhaps you could enlighten us as to your involvement."

   "Easy detective," Perry tried to calm him.  "Detective Henderson, this is Clark Kent.  He's a good friend to Miss Sullivan and he was very helpful with her uncovering the Luthor corps deception in the Gotham City poisoning."

   "Clark," Henderson shook his hand with a cautious smile.  "It seems that I heard your name in association with the Luthors before.  I seem to remember that you were wanted for questioning in the death of Mr. Luthor's son."

   "Yes sir," Clark shifted his weight nervously.  "I knew that my parents had nothing to do with Lex's death, and I had to try and find some proof."

   "Well the alleged confession of a presumed dead man would be very convincing in getting your folks in the clear," Henderson pointed out.  "But I must tell you that until Miss Sullivan's claims are substantiated, you and your family are still not in the clear."

   "That's okay for now," Clark nodded.  "We know what really happen, and it's just a matter of time before the proof comes out."

   Henderson shook his head.  "I have to tell you kid," he sighed.  "I never thought a simple DUI would be responsible for bringing down the Luthor Corps Empire."

   "I still don't understand," Clark gave him a questionable look.  "What has happen?  Why are you raiding Luthor's Corps offices?"

   "You haven't heard?" Perry spoke up.  "I guess that makes sense since you were not there when I spoke to Chloe a few hours ago.  Lionel is in big trouble kid.  Morgan Edge sent me a whole gaggle of documents linking Luthor Corps, the Smallville fertilizer plant and Lionel himself to the polluted water in Gotham City."

   "You mean all the stuff Morgan showed Chloe before he tried to kill her?" Clark's eyes grew wide.

   "That would be them," Perry grinned from ear to ear.  "It seems that it was enough to slap Lionel with a few hundred warrants and he decided not to block the cops and allowed full and immediate access."

   "Oh my God," Clark spun around as if to take it all in.  "He admitted it?"

   "Don't get ahead of yourself, kid," Henderson warned.  "Lionel's lawyers are still stone walling us as much as possible and Lionel has not said two words since he was taken down town, but when we arrived with the search warrants a few hours ago, he seemed to be a little distracted in his own thoughts."

   "You wouldn't believe it, Clark," Perry added with a grin.  "In all my years of trying to out maneuver the big cheese himself, I have never seen Lionel so passive.  It was almost as if his whole world had been ripped out from under him even before we got here and Henderson let me in on the ground floor of this investigation."

   "Lionel was distraught?" Clark seemed a little distant himself as he spoke.  "So something big must have been weighing on his mind."

   "He must have known we were coming," Henderson concluded as he stepped away.

   "Do you think that was it?" Clark asked Perry.

   "You tell me, Clark," Perry shrugged.  "You're the expert in all things Luthor, here.  Would knowing the police were closing in on him upset Lionel so much that he would become almost catatonic before they got here?"

   Clark thought for a minute.  "It doesn't make sense," he finally spoke again with a heavy concern in his voice.  "The Lionel Luthor I know would have had his lawyers lining up and setting up a ton of road blocks."

   "My thoughts exactly," Perry agreed.  "So we agree that Lionel was preoccupied with something else?"

   "But what could have him so troubling that the possible demise of Luthor Corps would take second place in his concerns?" Clark reasoned out rubbing his chin.

   Perry sat silent for a moment.  He thought back and then said with a hint of skepticism.  "Maybe what your friend Pete Ross said he saw here last night was truer than we suspected."

   His statement surprised Clark, "Pete was here?"

   "Yeah," Perry nodded leaning against the desk.  "It seems that he took it upon himself to do a little under cover work of his own," Perry peaked over Clark's shoulder to make sure Henderson was out of earshot in the next room.  "This is on the QT since it was not what our friend over there would consider legal, but Pete was in these offices last night."

   "Pete was trying to help?" A slight smile came to Clark's face as he thought about his speech back at the camp grounds must have touched something in his other best friend that would cause him to want to aid in the investigation.

   "Yeah," Perry continued when he was sure that no one else would hear.  "He made it all the way up here in the guise of a night janitor, but was knocked out in the dark room back there.  When he came to, Lionel was playing possum and his assistant claimed that the old guy had been loosing his mind since Lex's death."

   "Oh my God," Clark gasped.  "Could it be true?"

   "Your friend had his doubt, and personally so do I," Perry explained.  "Like I said earlier, Lionel was distracted when they served him, but hardly the basket case he wanted Ross to believe that he was."

   Clark turned towards the dark room that Perry had pointed to during the conversation.   

   "What was in that room that they had to knock Pete out and gave a cover story to hide?" Clark asked out loud.

   "Beats me," Perry shrugged again.  "All I can tell you is that there is enough hospital equipment in there to bring Walt Disney back to life."

   Clark gave him a wide-eyed look.  The metaphor was not lost on him as he thought 'back to life'.  Could it have possibly been so well planned and hidden under his nose after all this time?

   His steps were slow and steady as Clark made his way across the living quarters of Lionel's personal apartment off from his office.  He knew that the police must have gone over everything with a fine toothcomb, but he still had to see with his own eyes what Lionel must have been hiding from him all these weeks.

  The door, like all the others in the building was propped open and Clark stepped into the archway.  He stood silent inspecting ever-visible inch of the room from his vantage point.  He even gave the space a once over with his x-ray vision.  Much to his disappointment, he saw nothing other than what Perry had already told him.

   Clark stepped in and made his way over to the hospital bed that sat emptied in the center of the room.  He eyed the various machine and medical equipment the lined the walls.  Some had even look familiar to him as he thought back to when he saw Lex on his deathbed.  Some of these same machines were attached to him and said to be keeping him alive.

   A sad look took over his young face as he ran his hand over the clean sheets.  Grief seemed to be consuming him as Perry walked up behind him.

   "What is it, Clark?" Perry asked softly.

   Clark lifted his eyes towards the heavens as he spoke meekly.  "What if he was here the whole time, Perry?" he gasped.  "What if Lex was here the whole time while I was coming in and out of Lionel's office trying to size him up?"

   "Don't go there, Kent," Perry placed his hand on Clark's shoulder.  "I mean it's a long shot at best, but if Lex was still alive and being held here, it was by his own father.  He was not being tortured or anything."

   "He called me for help, Perry," Clark's chin sank to his chest.  "He was being held against his will and he felt compelled enough to call for me to rescue him.  You don't need to be rescued from someone who has your best interest at heart and is not harming you."

   Perry pulled his hand away.  He had no response to Clark's statement, but he was also not so sure that even Luthor heirs did not need saving from their own families from time to time.

   "I failed him," Clark sighed heavily.  "If Lex really was being held here, then I failed him."

   "Listen, Kid," Perry interrupted.  "You can't be beating yourself up because the Luthors are a dysfunctional family.  The way I see it, you have bigger concerns."

   Clark turned to him.  "What do you mean?"

   "I mean," Perry continued.  "You seem to think that this Luthor kid might still be alive, and I'm incline to believe you given this whole ICU set up in here, but first you need to find out if your friend really did survive that crash and if he's being stored away somewhere."

   The wheels in Clark's mind began to spin as he thought.  "Doctor Burns," he blurted out.  "He was uncooperative before, but now that Lionel is having legal problems that could get him in trouble, he might be willing to talk."

   A smile came across Clark's face a he took two steps forward only to be stopped by Perry's grip on his arm.  He turned back and saw the serious brow over Perry's eyes.

   "What?" Clark asked hesitantly.

   "Burns is dead, Clark," Perry told him.  "He took his own life earlier tonight.  It seems he did have something to hide, and when I turned him over to the authorities, he panicked and decided to take the cowards way out."

   Clark's own brow became creased as he took in what he was being told.  The shock made him slightly week in the knees and he braced himself on the corner of one of the large machines.

   "Are you alright?" Perry questioned with alarm.

   "Yeah," Clark nodded.  "I just need a minute."

   Perry patted him on the back.  "Try not to take it so hard kid," he tried to comfort him.  "It hit me like a brick wall when they first told me, and I still feel somewhat responsible, but if he hadn't have been working the angles for Lionel Luthor to start with, then he would not have had anything to run from."

   "Did," Clark closed his eyes tightly.  "Did he leave a note?"

   "Yeah," Perry sat on the edge of the bed.  "It was a goodbye letter to his wife and kids.  He apologized for soiling the Burns name, but gave no examples of how."

   Clark opened his eyes and looked down at Perry.  "How did you know he was hiding something?"

   "It was a hunch at first," Perry returned.  "But when Nell Potter ended up in a coma after a meeting I asked her to have with Lionel, and Burns being the attending, I put two and tow together and came up with a doctor who had tons to hide."

   "Nell's in a coma?"

   "She's awake now," Perry, continued to tell the story.  "I was able to talk Burns into not using the drugs I think Luthor was supplying to keep her under, and she woke up this morning.  It seems that she stumbled onto Lionel's secret as well, but she is unable to remember what it is just yet.  All she knows is that it might have had something to do with this room."

   Clark's mind was again off on it's journey of intrigue when he finally voiced his thought.  "She saw something in this room," his eyes lit up.  "Something that would have been in this hospital bed."

   Perry smiled as he watched Clark work out the scenarios.  He had good investigative instincts for a teenager, and he thought he could see the makings of a great reporter behind those deep green eyes.

   "It was Lex," a glint came to Clark's eyes as he mentioned his friends name for the first time with real hope behind his words.  "Lex was here, and Nell saw him.  Lionel did something to her so that she wouldn't be able to tell anyone."

   "Why, Clark," Perry decided to play devil's advocate.  "Why would Lionel fake Lex's death and then hide him away from the people like you who cared so much for him?"

   "I don't know," that determined stare returned to Clark.  "But I intend to find out why and what he has done to Lex."  He turned and walked to the door.

   "Kent," Perry called out.  "Where are you going?"

   Clark placed his hand against the doorframe and turned part way back towards the bed.  "I need to find Nell and help her remember what she saw here, and then I'll find Lionel and rip his heart out if he doesn't tell me what he has done with Lex."

   A chill ran up Perry's spine as he realized that Clark's words were truthful and deliberate.  He stood up and watched as the younger man made his way out of the offices.  For the first time since he could remember all of this starting, Perry felt a little pity for Lionel and the hell he would have to face at Clark's hands should he not tell him what he wanted to hear.

   Clark had a good idea of the layout for the Metropolis streets, so he was able to find General Hospital easily from the Luthor Corps building even using the lesser known side roads and alleys where he hoped he would not be seen running at top speed.

   After he had asked for Nell's room number, Clark made his way down a long corridor on her floor.  Rounding the corner, he could here a loud banging sound from a few feet ahead of him.  A smile came to Clark's face as he saw his good friend Pete Ross rubbing his head angrily as he stared down the large candy vending machine in the hall.

   A smile began to shine across Clark's face as he approached the young man who was not aware of his presence.  He stopped behind Pete and spoke.  "Vending machines are sometimes harder to break into than say the private office to a major CEO."

   Pete turned quickly and a grin wiped across his face also, as he saw his friend standing.  "Clark," he hugged the tall youth.  "Dude, am I ever happy to see you."

   Clark returned his embrace.  "I'm happy to see you too," he assured him as he pulled away.  

   "How did you get here so fast?" Pete asked.  "We called Gotham a few hours ago, and they said you must have just slipped out."

   "I got some help from Alfred," he explained.  He knew that Alfred would help cover for him if any questions came up later.  "He flew me in on the Wayne jet."

   "Cool," Pete gushed.  "It must be nice hob knobbing with the filthy rich."

   "Actually Bruce was a little cold and stand offish, but his butler Alfred was kinda cool," Clark responded.  "I think he and I became pretty close friends while I was there."

   "Well maybe you should call Chloe and Lana on Mr. White's cell," Pete said with a concerned voice.  "They were pretty rattled by your sudden disappearing act, they didn't want to leave Gotham until they knew where you were and that you are okay."

   "I'll do that," Clark agreed.  "The last thing they need is more worry.  Things in Gotham were a little hectic for them, too."

   "I heard you were puking your heart out while that Wayne guy was playing hero for Chloe," Pete reviewed what he had been told.  "I guess it must have been hard for 'healthy as a horse' Clark Kent to know what it feels like to be sick."

   "Let's say it's wasn't my idea of a fun night," Clark laughed.  "But then again, I hear we were not the only ones who had an eventful night."

   Pete shied away from his statement.  "Yeah, I guess."

   Clark lowered his head as he spoke.  "I know," he shuffled his foot.  "I know it must have been hard on you to do what you did.  I mean you stepped in and tried to help even after the fight we had at the camp."

   "Clark," Pete placed his hand on his friend's arm with a creased brow.  "Hey man, we are friends and friends fight from time to time.  It's no big deal."

   "It is, Pete," Clark's eyes met his.  "I know how you feel about the Luthors, and still you stepped in when you thought there was something you could do.  I also know you didn't do it to help Lex or even to get some kind of revenge on Lionel," Clark paused to let his words sink in for a moment.  "I know you did it for me."

   This time Pete lowered his head with a slight bit of shame.  "You're my best friend, man.  I had to help."

   Clark smiled at his confession.  "And you're still my best friend too, Pete.  Even with me being close to Lex, you, Chloe and Lana are still very special."

   "Good old Clark Kent," Pete grinned looking up.  "Coming from anyone else, I would have to doubt it, but I know you, Clark.  You are the only guy I know whose heart is big enough to have more than one best friend."

   "We're a team, Pete," Clark grinned back.  "I think the events of the last few weeks have proven that.  No matter what happens, we always come through for each other."

   Pete stood silent for a moment as Clark looked over to the vending machine.  "Is that your Three Musketeer bar hanging off that spinner?"

   "Yeah," Pete turned sheepishly towards his failure again.  "Me and the machine had a fight, and I lost.  I even tried shaking the stupid thing, but it won't come loose."

   Clark raised his hand to the glass partition and Glanced back at Pete.  "Well, have you tried this?" He curled the index finger of his right hand over and thumb, and then released it with a swift tap against the glass.  It made a small pinging sound, and Pete's jaw dropped as he watched the candy bar fall from its position a split second later.

   "Dude," Pete turned and reached down pulling the chocolate from the dispenser draw with excitement.  "How do you do these thing?"

   Clark gave him a large toothy smile.  "The Kent charm," he returned.

   "Sixteen and already able to charm a your way to a candy bar," Pete gave a mock look of shame.  "Yeah Clark, that charm is going to get you far."

   Clark laughed at his small joke and then his face got serious.  "Pete," he started lowering his head.  "I need to ask you,"

   "What I saw at Luthor Corps last night," Pete finished his sentence.  "I picked up on the 'vending machine' to 'corporate offices' remarked when you first got here."

   "I'm sorry," Clark said hating him self for putting a frown on Pete's face.  "I ran into Perry White, and he said that you were in Lionel's office last night, and you saw something."

   Pete took a deep breath and leaned against the wall behind him.  "Its okay, Clark.  I went there to see if I could get you some helpful information and maybe catch Lionel on what he did to Nell.  So I knew you would be asking."

   Clark stood at Pete's right side and leaned against the wall too.  He looked at Pete and waited for him to talk when he was ready.

   Pete held up the candy bar to Clark as he spoke.  "I did see something, Clark.  I saw someone take a swing at me with a wooden object, and then I saw stars and the back of my eye lids."

   Clark took the candy bar and bit into it.

   "When I woke," Pete continued as he took the bar back.  "I saw Lionel all spaced out and acting crazy.  His assistant, that Randolph guy told me that he was suffering a mental break down since Lex died."

   Clark swallowed the chocolate.  "Did you believe it?"

   Pete looked up into Clark's eyes.  "I wanted to, Clark," he said honestly.  "I mean it was the a win win situation for me.  Lex was gone and Lionel was doing a melt down.  It would have been poetic justice."

   Clark had to look away from his friend.  Pete was finished holding back his true dislike for the Luthors, and he would have to learn to accept that just as Pete had to accept Clark's closeness to Lex.

   "I almost bought it, Clark, but somehow the pieces didn't fit in my mind," Pete continued as he too looked away.  "My suspicion was proven when Randolph started a man hunt for me.  Then," Pete stopped for a moment.  "I found something that had me questioning who it was that really attacked me."

   Clark turned back with great interest.

   "It was dark in that closet off the bedroom," Pete looked back up into Clark's eyes.  "I saw someone in the dark swinging something at me, but it wasn't until I woke up again a while later that I actually saw Lionel in the corner holding a baseball bat.  I didn't question it since the bat had blood on it, but I was bleeding all over the place at that point."

   Clark reached up and touched the bandage on Pete's head with a gentle hand.  "That must have hurt."

   "No worst than the time Whitney pitched a fast ball in forth grade gym and it cracked my protective batting hat," Pete shrugged with a grimace.  "Only this time it was my skull that got cracked."

   Clark chuckled at his small joke and reached down for the candy bar that was in Pete's hand.

   "Anyway," Pete got back to the point releasing the candy.  "When Randolph was chasing me through the building, I was able to get back to the storage room where I had found the uniform I borrowed and where I left my jacket, and I saw something I didn't see before."  

   Clark took a bite and waited for Pete to continue, but he went silent.  "What, Pete?" he coaxed.  "What did you see?"

   "I saw what looked like broken plaster from a body cast," Pete finally said looking up at him again.  "There were allot of small pieces, but there were also a few larger ones that looked like they would be covering a leg and maybe an arm."

   Clark pulled his head back and lightly tapped it against the wall.

   "Lex had a cast on his leg and one arm," Pete reminded him.  "You were in there with him, but I could see the cast from the hall when you were holding him."

   Clark shut his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth.  He was desperately trying to keep control of his emotions, but was loosing the battle quickly.

   "Clark," Pete touched his arm.  "Are you okay, man?"

   All Clark could do at that point was nod his head twice.

   "There's more," Pete spoke very softly as not to spark any more grief in his friend.

   A sudden shutter ran up the back of Clark's neck and he snapped his eyes open.  He tilted his head down slowly and met with Pete's gaze.

   "I found something when I saw the plaster stuff," Pete knew he had better explain quickly.  "It was a wooden object shaped like a horse, and I knew I had seen it before, but I couldn't remember where."

   By that point, Clark's chest was beginning to heave up and down, and he closed his eyes again to keep back the tears.

   "I took the horse with me, and it wasn't until I came here and met up with your folks that they reminded me where I had seen it before," Pete said reaching for both of Clark's arms.  

   "Lex's" Clark spoke the one word with so much grief, that even Pete's heart ached for his friend. 

   "Yeah," Pete said as Clark's head fell on his shoulder.  "It's the one you made him for Christmas.  I remembered I saw you when you were carving it once.  That's why I knew it."

   "I went there," Clark shook his head into Pete's shirt.  "I search that room and the police were all over the place.  Lex wasn't there."

   Pete placed his right hand on the back of Clark's neck.  "I never saw him either," he said softly.  "But I remembered that I was hit by the horse and not a baseball bat."

   Clark pulled his head up and stared hard at Pete.

   "I think it was Lex in that closet," Pete said.  "He either didn't know who I was or maybe he did, but by the time I came to, they had replaced him with Lionel and a lame story that would explain all the hospital equipment in the room."

   Clark wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands.

   "Clark," they heard another voice from a few feet away.  When they turned, they saw Jonathan Kent standing outside of Nell's room with a concerned look.

   It took Clark only a split second to jump from the wall into his father's embrace.  He used all his resolve from running at his top speed in public, but he knew he could not risk the rush.

   "Pa," Clark hugged his father tightly.  "They let you out."

   "We had a little help from some friends," Jonathan hugged him back.  "Thank God you are alright, son."

   Clark pulled himself away and Jonathan saw his tears.  "Pete told you what he found?"

   Clark nodded his head and wiped away the last tear.  "Yeah," he sniffed.  "But I would still like to see it.  To make sure."

   "Of course," Jonathan patted him on the head.  "Your Mom has it in Nell's room."

   "Ma," he smiled brightly at the thought of seeing his mother again.

   Without delay, the three men made their way back to the private room and walked in to see Martha sitting next to Nell's bed where she was asleep.  "Clark," Martha's eyes lit up as she ran across the floor into her son's arms.

   "Mom," Clark returned her embrace.  "I'm back,"

   "Thank you Jesus," Martha exclaimed.  "Chloe told us all about what happen with Lionel and that Morgan Edge guy."

   "Don't remind me," Clark pulled away gently.  "That part of my life is over and now it's Lionel Luthor's problem.  My job is to find out what really happened to Lex."

   Martha dropped her gaze from her son's face as she thought about what they had discovered

   "I need to see it," Clark said with a gentle tone.  "Please let me see it."

   She nodded and walked over to the curtains in front of the window.  Her mood was somber and remorseful as she reached behind the drawn drapes and pulled out the wooden Trojan horse Clark had carved for Lex on their first Christmas as friends.  She held it up in her hands as she slowly walked back.

   A tear rolled down Martha's cheek as she saw the great welts of pain that came to Clark's eyes when he looked down at the object in her hands.  She knew that the memories of his friend were breaking his heart.  She wanted to hide the horse, but she knew it was a valuable item to Clark, and perhaps proved that Lex was not really dead.

   Slowly raising his hands, Clark grasped the toy and pulled it in for a closer inspection.

   "It's Lex's horse," Martha told him.  "I recognized the carving you did and the work I did on painting the features.  It's been beaten up a little, but I would know that horse anywhere."

   "No one would have this," Clark almost whispered.  "Lex was the only person who even thought it was worth keeping.  He was the only one who had a connection to it.  If Lionel was concerned enough to keep it, then he would have known what it meant, and he would have burnt it at the first chance."

   "Are you thinking that Lex is alive?" Martha asked her son.

   Clark looked deeply into her eyes.  "I don't know, Ma."

   "Clark," Nell opened her eyes where she lay on the bed behind Martha.

   "Nell," Clark forced a brave face past his grief.  He smiled sweetly at her.  "I'm happy to see that you are doing better.  I'm sorry we were not here for you.  We didn't know what happened until today."

   "That's okay," Nell smiled back with weary eyes.  "I'm just so happy that everything worked out.  I got to speak with Lana over the phone earlier, and she was telling me how worried she was for you."

   "Lana was worried," Clark perked up slightly.

   "Lana thinks allot of you, Clark," Nell told him with a grin.  "She tells me that you are a real sweet friend."

   "Thanks," Clark lost his smile and returned his attention to the horse.

   "What is that?" Nell asked as they all gathered around her bed.

   "It's a gift I made for Lex," Clark said sheepishly as he stood next to her.  "Pete found it at Luthor Corps."

   A blank stare came over Nell's face as Martha leaned in from next to Clark.  "Nell," she called.  "Are you okay?"

   Jonathan turned to Pete from where they were standing on the opposite side of the bed.  "Pete, go get the nurse."

   "Sure," Pete replied as he took a step away.

   "Wait," Nell called out to all of them, as her eyes seemed to return.  "I'm okay," she took a deep breath.  "I was just having a flash of memory.  I saw something when I was at the Luthor Corps building, too."

   They all gave her their undivided attention as she turned to Clark.  "I saw him in Lionel's private bedroom," she said with a haunted look.  "I saw Lex."

   Every jaw in the room dropped as they all turned to face Clark who was gasping for air.  "Are," he started.  "Are you sure?"

   Nell thought about it for a moment and then stared into his eyes.  "Yes Clark, I'm sure what I saw now.  Just before Lionel drugged me.  I saw Lex laying in a hospital bed."

   Clark braced himself on the side of the bed as Martha attempted to hold him up.

   "Clark," Nell placed her hand over his as he returned her gaze.  "Lex is alive, Clark."

   Jonathan and Pete had to run around the bed and help Martha pick Clark off his knees on the floor where he had fallen.  His knees had given out, and Clark was gasping for life saving air as he tried to recover from the startling news.

   Martha and Jonathan wrapped their arms around their son as he began to shake.  He looked up at them with teary eyes and the look on his face was part shock, grief, surprise and joy.  "He's alive." Clark gasped.  "I knew it, and I was right."

   He leaned his head against Martha's arm and closed his eyes.  "Lex is alive."

   It was a half hour later when Jonathan was finally able to trace his son's journey, and he found him in the small waiting room outside of the ICU ward.  The room was emptied, and Clark sat alone in the corner on the very chair he had rested on for all those hours a few weeks earlier waiting for word on his friend.

   "Son?" Jonathan made his way over to Clark.  "Clark, are you okay?"

   Clark had a pondering look in his eyes and had his head resting on his folded hands.  He only glanced up at his father as he took the seat to his right.  The tears were long since dried from the younger man's eyes, and Jonathan could only guest what mysterious thoughts were lingering behind his son's bright green eyes.

   "You made your mother worried the way you just left Nell's room like that with no word," Jonathan spoke as he placed a tender hand on his shoulder.  "And I must admit that it scares me a little that you would come back here, son."

   "I didn't know where else to go," Clark rubbed his face with his hands.  "I didn't mean to worry you, but I could not think while you were all staring at me."

   "We are concerned, Clark," Jonathan told him softly.  "Pete, Nell, your Mother and I are worried about what must be going through your mind right now.  You took the news of Lex being alive and hidden, real hard back there."

   "I know," Clark leaned on his knees and turned his head to face his Dad.  "I just can't believe that I was stupid enough to let Lionel pull the wool over my eyes that whole time while I knew in my heart that Lex was alive."

   Jonathan took a deep breath and leaned on his own knees with his elbows.  "I know, son," he sighed. "We should have believed you when you told us.  You have always had some strange sixth sense when things were not right.  You always seemed to know when someone needed your help, and with Lex, that sense seems to be heighten."

   "I don't understand it either, Dad," Clark's eyes grew weary.  "All I know is that somehow Lex and my destiny are tied together, and we are suppose to be around each other in some way or other for the rest of our lives.  It's almost like we are soul mates, but in a nonromantic way.  Lex Luthor is Clark Kent's other part."

    Jonathan gave Clark a questionable look.

   He gave a small snort when Clark saw Jonathan's expression.  "I don't understand it either, Dad."

   His father gave him a short smile.  "I think I do, Clark," he grinned weakly.  "I'm just trying to get use to the idea of having Lex at the farm for every Christmas dinner in the for seeable future."

   Clark gave his joke a chuckle as he looked back down at his hands.  "First we have to find him."

   Leaning back in his chair, Jonathan put his arm over Clark's seat.  "I'm sure Lionel saw the police coming, and has Lex safely locked away somewhere.  Lex won't be seen until his father is ready."

   "I have to save him Dad," Clark leaned back in his own seat.  "I mean he called me, and now he must be wondering where I am."

   "Lionel won't hurt him, Clark," Jonathan gave him a raised eyebrow.  "He may stink as father material, and we all know he has hurt allot of people to keep his little secrets these last few months, but he has never given any indication that he would hurt his son.  He has gone out of his way to make sure that people may have been hurt, but he hasn't killed anyone."

   "Still," Clark looked up at the ceiling tiles.  "Lex wouldn't have called me if he didn't think he was in trouble.  He's never been very good as fighting off Lionel.  Even when he bought him out of the fertilizer plant, he still needed and excepted help from his employees."

   "Lex Luthor is a whole lot stronger than you want to believe, Clark," Jonathan assured.  "You can't protect everyone all the time.  If you are going to use your abilities to help people, then you must accept that.  You have to understand that not everyone can run at super speed, but some of us can also do some amazing things by walking at a normal pace, and Lex has a good strong stride."

   A single tear rolled down Clark's face as he spoke to the light fixture above him.  "I shouldn't have believed that he was dead when I was holding him in there," he said with grief.  "I should have used my abilities to realize the truth.  I should have seen through the act."

   "Clark," Jonathan pulled him closer.  "Your friend had just died, and Lionel went through allot of trouble to make it appear that way, so you were not thinking straight.  You did what every human being in the universe would have done, and you believed what you saw and then you mourned for your friend."

   There was a long silence as he continued to look up, and then, "Oh God," Clark's voice became almost shrilled as he gasped out with tears flowing freely.  "He wasn't dead, Pa.  I let them take him away to be locked up somewhere, and he wasn't dead."

  "Clark," Jonathan quickly pulled Clark to his chest.  "You didn't know.  It wasn't your fault."

   Clark held tightly to Jonathan's shirt.  "Oh God, forgive me Lex," he sobbed uncontrollably.  "Forgive me."

   Martha Kent and Pete Ross stood in the doorway as they saw Jonathan wrap himself around his shaking son.  He rocked him gently as Martha joined the embrace, and still Clark wept.

   Pete stood silent, and wiped away his own tear as he watch his closes friend fall apart in his parent's arms.

   It was another half hour before Clark was able to pull himself together and sat back in the chair.  Martha handed him a cup of water, and he drank it eagerly.  He crushed the paper cup in his hand and leaned his head against the wall.

   "Do you need more water?" Martha asked taking the discarded cup and placing it on the coffee table.

   "No," Clark answered softly.  "I'm okay."

   "You should get some rest," Jonathan recommended.

   "No," Clark said again.  

   "Clark," Martha gave him the mother look.  "What are you thinking of doing?"

   He lowered his eyes to meet hers.  "Where is Lionel?"

   Martha and Jonathan glanced over at each other.

   "He's in jail, son," Jonathan answered.  "I heard on the news that he was arraigned earlier tonight, and was refused bail."

   "They said he was a flight risk," Martha almost gave a quirky look.  "The strange thing is that said the same thing about us."

   "Only Lionel has the means to disappear forever," Jonathan added.  "So that must be why they are holding onto him."

   "I have to go speak to him," Clark sat up straight.

   "Wait," Jonathan pulled back on his arm.  "You can't just go in there and demand that he tell you where Lex is."

   Clark turned hurt but determined eyes towards his father.  "He is the only one that knows where Lex is, and I am going to make him tell me."

   "Clark," Martha tried to reason with him.  "Lionel went through all this trouble to hide Lex this long.  He's not going to just hand him over to you."

   "Lionel has no more control over what happens to him," Clark gritted his teeth.  "I won't let Lex get lost before Lionel either goes to jail, or escapes and goes into hiding forever."

   Martha opened her mouth again as if to say something, but Jonathan stopped her with a cautious look.

   "Listen," Clark stood up and turned to face them.  "I know this sounds crazy and may even have Lionel send Lex further into hiding, but I need to do this.  I need to use any resource I can think of to find Lex and get him to safety."

   Jonathan stood up and eyed his son proudly.  After a long pause, he nodded his head once.  "Okay, Clark."

   Clark was not sure what to make of this approval at first, but then he allowed a smile to cross his lips and he hugged his father.  "I won't let Lex down, and I won't let you down either."

   Jonathan returned the smile as he pulled away.  "I know you won't, son."

   "Be careful," Martha took her turn with a hug.  "There no telling what Lionel has up his sleeve now."

   "I will, Mom," he kissed her cheek.  

   "Clark," Jonathan pulled Martha to his side.  "Give us a call when you find Lex, and we'll come pick you up."

   "I will," Clark nodded with a big grin.  He turned and walked to the door where Pete was still standing.

   The two young men eyed each other for a long moment.  Clark was the first to give him a short smile.  Pete returned the same, and then looked into Clark's eyes.  He straightened his form and took a deep breath as if bracing for a punch.  Then he let the air out and gave a small smirk.  "Bring Lex home, Clark," he spoke the words softy and with out his usual dislike for the name.

   "I will, Pete," Clark placed his hand on Pete's shoulder.  "I will."

   Again Clark knew the lay out of Metropolis well enough that he was able to find the police station with no difficulty.  The sergeant at the desk gave him a hard time at first since he was asking to see Lionel Luthor at such a late hour, but Clark pleaded fore his help, and was eventually let into the holding block with the promise of not letting the word get out.  The slightly heavyset grayed hair officer lead Clark to a small white washes room with a small table and two chairs and told him to wait there.

   It was another ten minutes before Clark heard the door on the opposite side of the room being unlocked, and then he saw a heart breaking sight.  Lionel Luthor was lead into the room wearing a loosely fitted orange jump suite and his hands were handcuffed behind his back.  The life seemed to be drained from his eyes and his walk was slow and drawn.  He hung his head low with his long hair cascading over his face.  The sight gave Clark a reminder of Charles Manson being interviewed on Sixty Minutes.  However, it seemed Lionel's fire was gone, and his arrogance seemed to be a long since departed vise.

   The guard removed the cuffs from his back, and instead chained his wrist in front of him to the table as he pushed Lionel down into the seat.  He stepped back and pointed for Clark to sit in the chair across the table.  Clark did as expected, and the guard took his place in the corner.

   The whole matter was unnerving, but Clark knew he had come with a purpose, and he was intent of seeing his mission through to the end.  He took a deep breath and leaned on the wooden platform between them.

   "You shouldn't be here, Clark," Lionel peered up through his locks with a sneer.  "Have you come here to see me at my lowest point?"

   Clark wanted to give a snappy and rude response, but he decided to take to polite approach.  He leaned closer and spoke softly.  "Where is he, Mr. Luthor?  What have you done with Lex?"

   Lionel raised his head slightly with a surprised look.

   "I have more than enough proof," Clark continued.  "We found the wooden horse, and Nell Potter finally remembers what she saw in that room."

   "Nell," he almost spat the word.  "Nell is sadly mistaken, Clark.  Lex is dead.  I buried him myself."

   "I've seen the horse," Clark eyes sparked with determination.  "It had blood on it.  Some of it was Pete Ross's where Lex hit him with it, but judging from the cast he found in the janitor's closet next to the horse, I'm willing to bet that even more of the blood belongs to your son.  Maybe I should have someone run a DNA test."

   "It could be my blood," Lionel's stare met Clark's.  "An actually DNA could take a long time not to mention money, and I can assure you that I shall not pay for it."

   "Maybe I should have a court order issued?" Clark threatened.

   "What proof, Clark?" Lionel grunted.  "You have the word of a woman with a head injury and a little horsie?"

   "He's alive," Clark gritted his teeth.  "You and I both know it, and now I need you to tell me where he is so I can protect him while you are locked away in here."

  Lionel sat up straight and shook the hair out of his face.  "You are very sure of yourself, Mr. Kent.  What makes you think that you could protect my dead son from people like Morgan Edge when even I could not?"

   "Lex is my friend, and I won't let anyone hurt him," Clark growled back.  "Not even you, Mr. Luthor."

   "Words!" Lionel said sharply.  "You had your chance, little boy, and my son still ended up dead, driving home from your house."

   "I had no idea that someone hated you enough to try and kill Lex for your lies," Clark's eyes were on fire.  "No one could have known how much of an old sadistic sick man you truly are.  My God, you risked an entire city to study a pet project, and now your son is paying for your sin."

   Lionel had wanted to say something and retort the teen's attack, but he could no longer defend his own actions.  He could not admit them here and now, but he could not refuse what harm he had inflicted on all these people.  He knew that he had done a horrible thing, but it did not affect him until he saw his deeds reflected in Lex's eyes, and now he was seeing those same horrific results in Clark's eyes.  His head sank to his chest again.

   Clark had seen that the powerful Lionel Luthor was now a defeated man, and he no longer had the desire to fight.  He too let down his attack, and he lowered his tone as he spoke again.  "Please," he said softly.  "Let me help Lex."

   Lionel wrestled with his own thoughts for a few seconds as he allowed his breathing to be the only sound heard in the small room.  Finally, as if a pain of grief hit him, Lionel turned his head slightly away.  "It's too late," he said under his breath.  "It's all too late."

   Clark was taken aback as he realized that he had broken through Lionel's barriers, and he was actually about to tell him something.  He chose his words carefully as he continued.  "It's not too late," he insisted.  "Tell me where Lex is, and I can help."

   "You don't understand," Lionel raised his head.  "It's too late, Clark.  Lex is gone."

   It was the first time Clark could ever remember seeing hurt and remorse in the older man's eyes.  Even when he was faking his grief for his lost over Lex, there had never been such displays of anguish.

   "What do you mean?" Clark reached over and almost touched his hand, but pulled away.  "Where did he go?"

   Lionel again took a long pause before he continued.  He looked deeply into Clark's eyes as if looking for something.  Then his lips parted and he released the words.  "I tried," he almost choked on the sounds.  "I tried to help, but I destroyed everything."

   His tone alarmed Clark as his eyes widen.  "Destroyed?" he repeated.  "What are you talking about?"

   Lionel glanced down at his hands.  "I was protecting him," he croaked.  "I was suppose to keep him safe from people like Edge, and he was going to see that I had to do it, and then he would thank me.  Maybe not at first, but one day, someday." His eyes met Clark's again.  "He was supposed to understand, Clark, and then we would be able to work out our differences and we would work side by side and rule Luthor Corps as a team, as it was always meant to be."

   The grief was tearing at Lionel's face as he spoke.  "He is my son," he sneered again.  "He is a Luthor, and Luthors never give in.  They may fight at first, but eventually they do what is right for the good of the company."

   Clark listen patiently as Lionel told his riddle of the story; until he knew he had to speak up.  "Please Mr. Luthor," he stopped him mid sentence.  "What happen to Lex?  Where is he now?"

   A spooky empty look came to Lionel's face as he sat motionless.

   "Please," Clark's voice cracked.  "Please tell me what you did to Lex."

   "He's gone, son," Lionel finally spoke again.  "Lex is no longer Lex.  I destroyed my boy."

   Clark fell back into his seat with shock.

   "I broke him," Lionel's voice trailed on.  "I was helping him and keeping him protected, but all I ended up doing was breaking him, and Lex is gone."

   "Gone?" Clark had to fight the veil taste that filled his mouth with that word.  "How do you mean he's gone?"

   Lionel again studied his hands on the table.  "Lex has lost his mind."  His words were direct and with out emotion, but Clark knew they were ripping at the old man almost as much, if not more, than they were at him.

   Lowering his head, Clark fought off the onset of more grief.  He had to stay strong and keep his mind clear if he was going to help his friend.  "How?" he continued to crack his sounds as he spoke.  "What happen?"

   "I don't know," Lionel lowered his head to rub his face in frustration.  "Maybe it was the drugs or all the pain he had been in.  Perhaps even a delayed reaction to the head injuries, but he snapped."

   Clark studied him closely.  There seemed to be no deception in his tone, but he still reacted cautiously.  "Was," his voice again squeaked.  "Was there a breaking point where you realized he had gone?  What was it that you think would make him snap?"

   Lionel looked back up at him with a hint of anger.  "It was you, Clark."

   The young man's jaw dropped as he listened.  "I had to do something," Lionel explained.  "When your friend broke in last night, Lex thought that you would be coming for him, and he had risked himself by breaking away the cast that help to hold his body together.  He was sure that someone would come and take him away, and he was determined to help even if he killed himself in the process, and so I had to destroy that hope so he would stay where I could protect him."

   "Oh my God," Clark gasped.  "What did you do?"

   "He remembered that he saw someone in the closet and that he had attacked them, but he had not seen the face," Lionel told him.  "He was unaware that your friend was posing as a janitor, and I knew this was my chance to stop his foolish attempts of getting out and risking himself."  Lionel leaned forward again.  "I had to think fast, and I did.  I told Lex that it was you in that closet who had come in answer to his phone call, and that when he struck you with the wooden horse, he had killed you."

   Clark loss his breathe as he heard the cruel story.  He braced himself against the table and stared across at the man he now felt distain for.

   "I had to do something, Clark," Lionel defended himself.  "I couldn't let him try and run and be caught by Edge."

   With his teeth gritted and his fist clenched, Clark fought off all instincts to reach over and choke his senior.

   "It was after that," Lionel's voice grew solemn again.  "He became very quiet and did not speak again.  I thought it was the drugs at first, but he never again opened his mouth, and even his eyes stopped moving when they were force opened.  He retreated into his own mind, and he never returned."

   Clark was able to calm down and again took a relaxed stance.

   "The doctors said he was only getting worst, and the chances of him snapping out of it any time soon, are becoming less likely."

   "Where is he?" Clark questioned holding back his own wall of emotions.  "He' not at Luthor Corps anymore, is he?"

   "No," Lionel sighed.  "The police were coming, and I had Randolph take him somewhere safe."

   "Where?" Clark fought him with the insistence of knowing the location of his friend.

   "I don't know," Lionel raised his eyebrows.  "I only knew I had not come this far only to risk my son further, so Randolph told me he knew of a place, and I had him take him away."

   "You don't know where your own son is?" Clark spat.

   "It's better this way," Lionel said still low enough so the guard would not hear.   "Lex is gone and helpless now.  It's better that no one associate him with me.  Leave this alone, Clark."

   "But what if something happens and you have to reach him?" Clark asked with shock at the way the Luthors lived.

   "I am sure that Randolph has left some details about Lex's where about in my personal office safe," Lionel Explained.

   "Wait a minute," Clark stopped him.  "When I was there earlier, the police were all over the building and they were taking everything they thought they could use against you.  I'm sure that they would have had your safe opened."

   "Yes," Lionel almost smirked.  "The one that they knew about, but there is another safe well hidden that only Randolph and I know about.  It's where we keep my most treasured assets."

   "Including the location of your own son," Clark sneered.  "Well I'm going to find that safe and Lex," he stood up.

   "Stop!" Lionel yelled after him startling the sleeping guard.  "Don't do this.  You have no idea what will happen if someone finds out that Lex is not dead."

   Clark looked back over his shoulder.  "I will protect Lex."

   "You fool!" Lionel screamed not hiding his dislike for the boy.  "If you take Lex out of there, you will be signing his death certificate."

   "He's already dead!" Clark screamed back as he knocked on the door.  "You killed him, Luthor, and now I am going to try and bring him back."

   "It's too late," Lionel's voice almost pleaded as the door opened and the guard held him back.  "He's gone.  My son is gone and you or I can never bring him back."

   Clark stopped in the doorframe as he lowered his head.

   "Please Clark," Lionel's voice was much softer.  "Leave well enough alone.  Lex has to stay hidden for his own good.  You can't save him."

   Clark looked back one final time.  "But I have to try, Mr. Luthor," he said with soft and sorrow filled eyes.  With his point made and a new lead, Clark stepped out of the room and never looked back.

   Lionel was dragging the table with him as he continued to scream at the open door.  "You can't do this, Clark!  My son will be dead the moment Morgan Edge and everyone like him knows that Lex is still alive."

   The police officer in the hall closed the door as two guards pulled Lionel back through the other door.  "You will be killing him!" Lionel screamed one last time.  "You will be killing my son."

   Clark stood outside the door and took a deep breath as everyone in the hall stared at him, but he no longer cared.  He now had a clear course set, and he would find Lex even if he had to rip the Luthor Corps building from its foundation to achieve it.

   The run through the Metropolis streets took only mere seconds for him as Clark moved at his fastest speed possible in and through the Luthor Corps building.  Much to his advantage, the primacies were not armed with video surveillance as he had thought it would.  Clark reason this out to the fact that there was perhaps allot more going on behind these glass walls that Lionel did not want to be seen by possible out side eyes.  Rushing up the stairwell, Clark made his way to Lionel's private office with no difficulty, as the rush of people who had been there earlier all seemed to have gone home.  He stood before the double doors eying them with great care and then gave them a solid smack with the palm of his hand, which force them to fly open.

   Taking a step into the room with caution, Clark wasted no time and began to scan the area with his x-ray vision.  He found the prop safe against the far wall opposite Lionel's desk that he had been told about, and it had already been emptied of any contents.  Clark already knew that there was nothing in there to find, but the police would have to discover that fact on their own.  His mission was much more personal, and perhaps even more crucial since the damage had already been done to Gotham City and there was little he himself could do to correct it, but Lex still had a chance if he could get to him and time and help his friend find his way back to reality.

   Clark closed the doors behind him, and after several minutes of scanning, Clark saw something behind the large letter 'C' of the Luthor Corps symbol on the wall of the inner office.  It took only a second for him to reach for the solid steel object that was bolted to the wall and rip it from its settings.  The piece of sheet metal flew across the room as Clark set his eyes on the cleverly hidden wall safe.  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the door was still closed and he fixed his eyes on the safe and saw that the box contained several stacks of papers and a few small hardbound journals.  

   Clark reached up and smashed his hand through the knob of the safe and ripped a gapping hole into the two inches of reinforced metal.  He searched around and pulled a few of the books out.  Most were secret bank accounts and stock portfolios that held little interest for Clark as he searched. Then he came across a small black book with several pages of scribbling, but it also had a flyer sticking out between the white sheets.  Clark examined it closely and found that it was a pamphlet for a private psychiatric hospital in up state Kansas.  A short line was written on the page where it sat.  

   "Patient 106," Clark read.  He glanced through the pages and found the flyer had an address, and a grin crossed his lips.  This is where Lex was taken, the journey soon would be over, and he would bring his friend home.

   "Hold it right there!" A voice called out as the doors behind him swung open.

   Clark tuned quickly and saw that there were three guards and a man in a smart black business suite standing with guns drawn at him.

   "Don't move kid," The man in the suite told him with a matter of urgency.  

   Turning slowly, Clark tucked the pamphlet in his back pocket.  "We don't want to do this guys," he said with a frown.

   "Get your hands up, kid," the man instructed.  "My name is Carl Mathews, and on behalf of the Luthor Corps security, I am placing you under arrest."

   "Like I'll ever see a police station after discovering the secret safe and all of Lionel Luthors deepest darkest secrets," Clark said matter of fact.  "I know how LC security works, guys."

   "Then you know the drill," Mathews said as he took a step forward.  "We can't let you run free, kid."

   Clark raised his arm and stared down at his watch.  "Think about it guys," he smirked.  "Do you really think that if I know how to get this far and about the secret safe, that I would have come unprepared?"

   The three guards behind Mathews glanced at each other.

  "Nope," Clark tap a button on his watch and the timer began to tick away.  "It's time to pull out all the stop guys.  You have sixty seconds to clear this floor, or we all go together."

   "You're bluffing kid," Mathews snarled.

   "Like I said," Clark leaned against the desk with a relaxed stance.  It was taking everything he had to keep up his cool exterior, but too much was at stake if he didn't get out of there now.  He forced a grin.  "I know how this story ends, so why not take a few rent-a-cops with me.  It's beats a lonely poison pill." He glanced again at his watch.  "Forty five seconds, guys."

   "Mathews," one of the uniform guards called out.  

   "He's lying," Mathews insisted.

   "I ain't taking any chances on my salary," a second guard stepped hastily out of the room.

   "Alright," Mathews looked over his shoulders.  "We'll play along kid, but we'll be back in thirty seconds, and don't try to run, because this floor is blocked off.  There's no way out."

   "Twenty," Clark glanced up from his wrist.

   "Go, go, go," Mathews, screamed as he ushered them out and closed the doors.

   Clark reached for his watch and turned off the timer.  "Works every time," he grinned walking back to the safe.  He pulled several stacks of papers from the box.  He then returned to the desk and dialed the number to Nell's room he had committed to memory before leaving the hospital.

   "Dad," he spoke into the receiver as he looked out the window.  "Meet me at the intersection of route nineteen and forty six in about an hour.  I think I found what I came for." Clark told his father.  "Oh get a hold of Perry White and tell him I will be dropping off a package for him in the Daily Planet Lobby in a few minutes.  It will be in a Luthor Corps envelope."  He said as he dropped the papers into a large gray envelope.

   "Yeah," Clark nodded licking it shut.  "I'll be careful, and tell Mom I love her too.  See you soon."  He took one last look out the window down at the street as he tossed the phone away.

   "Another clear quiet night in Metropolis," he sighed tapping on the glass.  "I'm sure this baby is at least bullet proof if not storm and artillery proof," he grinned walking to the opposite side of the desk.

  Placing one foot firmly against the desk, Clark glanced back at the doors.  "Well, Pastor Springs always says when ever a door closes, God always opens a window," a large grin crossed his face as Clark turned back with a mischievous look in his eyes.  "Good plan."

  Giving the large solid desk a sudden shove with his leg, Clark forced the object across the floor until in went smashing through the large plate glass that cover the entire wall of the room. Pieces of shattered glass went flying in all directions.

   Not giving a chance to error, Clark dived through the new opening and allowed him self to fall the several flight down to the street below.  Once his feet hit the ground with a large thud that left two huge indents, Clark began to run at his top speed before anyone could come in his direction, and hopefully before anyone who happen to be in the area happen to get a good look at him.  He knew it was a large risk he was taking by being so open with his abilities, but Clark knew it was a risk he had to take to save Lex.  It was only a matter of time before Lionel contacted Randolph and had Lex moved.  He was going to save his friend that night. And no one would stop him from accomplishing his goals.

   The next part of his journey took Clark twenty minutes, as he had to carefully follow the road signs.  Clark didn't travel out of Smallville much, and this section of Kansas just beyond Metropolis was not as familiar to him as Lowell County.  The run was filled with double-checking and even one event where he had to back track for a few miles, but eventually he found the small private hospital he was looking for.

   The building was fenced off with iron fences and high walls, and he could see uniform security guards patrolling the grounds.  Clark waited for a couple to pass as he hid in the bushes near by, and then he ran to the bars in a section that was not visible from the compound.  He easily bent the bars and slid his slender form through the new opening.  Scurrying through the landscaping, Clark made his way to the brick building and forces a window open to an emptied office.  

   Much to his surprise and delight, he had entered the admissions office and found the folder containing all the patient numbers and room assignments.  Clark marveled at how each person had been given a number, and there were no names to be found anywhere on the forms.  He was sure that the names were on record somewhere, but it did not matter to him.  Lionel's little black book had provided him with the number of patient 106, and he knew that the person in room seventy-five was Lex.

   Peaking into the hall, he found that the halls were mostly deserted at that late hour, and only a handful of nurses gathered around the nurse's station at the far end of the corridor.  Clack slipped into the hall and made his way in the opposite direction.  He was on the ground floor, and knew that the rooms must have been on a higher level.  He found the stares and made his way up to the next flight.

   Again the hall was emptied as Clark stepped out.  He saw that there was a rotating camera at the end, and Clark super speed his way around it as it shifted in the other direction.  Reaching up, Clark was able to pull the plug on the device, and he prayed that the guards who might be watching would consider it as a glitch and not sound an alarm just yet.

   Slowly working his way around, Clark Kent followed the series of room numbers until he came to number seventy-five, as the list had indicated.  Reaching for the doorknob, Clark's hand began to shake.  His stomach was already doing flip-flops, and he almost felt as if he were going to get sick again.  He had been uneasy and less than heroic in the past, but this was the defining moment for the teen.  All his hopes and prayers were set on this moment, and he was not sure if he could handle another heavy disappointment.  He had to find Lex behind this door, and Lex had to be all right.

   The sound of the knob seemed to echo through the building as he slowly began to turn it, but Clark knew enough that it was only his mind playing tricks, and only he could hear the low key sound.

   Darkness was cloaking the room as Clark looked into it.  He took a deep breath before slipping through the small passageway he had made for him self.  Once inside, Clark closed the door and stood with his back press against the wooden frame.  His pulse was racing and his breaths were heavy and strained.  The only light in the room was from a small intervenes drip monitor near the bed, and it was not enough for even him to see.

   Slowly Clark clunked his heavy boots across the floor until he was standing by the small red dot.  He glances up and saw that another small light on the wall indicated that it was a light switch, and Clark reached for it and pressed the button.

   The faint humming sound of the dim nightlight began, and it flickered to life.  The sudden brightness made Clark turn his head away, but his hand reached down and touched a warm arm on the bed.  It was then Clark froze.

   Not having the heart to look just yet, Clark took a second and felt around, and he could tell by the definition in the arm with the bicep and small hairs, that it was a man's.  The skin also gave him to know that it was still toned and soft enough to be a younger man.

   Mustering up all his inner strength, Clark shut his eyes tight, but turned his head to face the face of the person in the bed.  With one last deep breath and a resolve to stand tall, Clark shot his eyes opened and he peered down at the man in the hospital bed.

   The view hit Clark hard, and it knocked the wind out of him as he fell slightly forward and braced himself on the bed rail.  Clark took several more deep cleansing breaths and raised his hand to touch the patient's face softly.  His eyes narrowed into a pain filled frown, and Clark touched the pale tender face.

   "Lex," his broken and now horsed voice said with a sound just above a whisper.  "My God, Lex, you really are alive," Clark cried openly.

   Clark's hands hovered above his friend as if he were afraid to touch him any further.  They shook without resolve of ever being able to stop, and Clark fell forward.  The weeks of prayer and hopes all came flooding back to Clark as he began to weep.  Even he was unsure if they were tears of pain or joy, but all he knew is that they were tears for his best friend who had returned from the dead.

  Burring his face into the soft warm cloth of Lex's pajamas, Clark let all his pent up emotions go and he cried with the untamed remorse of a child.  The emotions were flooding him as his mind tried to finally wrap itself around the fact that he have grieved for a friend who was now once again before him.

   Regaining some composure, Clark lifted his head and looked up to his friend's unchanging face.  His eyes were pail and vacant as he stared up to the ceiling.  If it were not for the slow blinking movement from time to time, Clark would have been unsure if this man were still alive at all.

   He wiped away some of the tears with the sleeve of his plaid shirt, and Clark pulled himself slightly up and leaned over Lex's face.  He studied him for a good long time and tried to get his eyes to follow him, but Lex was not responding.  His stare was empty and void of all emotions.

   "Lex," Clark touched his face again with the same shaking hand.  "Lex, its me, Clark.  I came to rescue you," he grinned through his grief.  "I'm going to take you home now.  No one else is going to hurt you, I promise."

   His reassuring words were met only with the same vacant stare, and Clark pulled back slightly.  He wanted to shake Lex until he would wake from this self-imposed trance, but he knew this was not the way to handle it.  He had to be gentle and let Lex come back in his own time.  There was no telling the horrors the older man had been through at the hands of his own father, and Clark knew enough to know that it wouldn't be forgotten just at the sight of his face.

   Pulling back and studding the room, Clark began to look for the safest and easiest way out where he could take Lex with out risking any more pain.  The window was only one flight up, but he was afraid that the jolt of the jump might injure Lex's already fragile body even more.  After a few minutes, Clark decided that his only escape route was the one he had taken to come in.  It would be risky and not without detection, but he knew he would have to take Lex out the front door.

   Clark began to wrap the blankets and sheets around Lex and prepared him as best as he could for the trip.  He would have to carry the frail body like a child in his arms, but Clark knew it was the only action he could take and a task he would gladly endure.

   The IV was the first thing that Clark had to remove, and he was very careful to gently pull the tape off and then remove the needle from Lex's arm.  He placed the tube over the hanging bag and then tucked his arm under the covers with the rest of his torso. Ever so careful, Clark slid his hands under Lex and made sure the covers were firmly wrapped.  He then began to lift his body off the bed.

   The door gave a slight shushing sound as Clark turned to see that it had been opened.  To his surprise, he saw Lionel's personal head of security, Mr. Randolph, standing at the entrance with a pistol in hand.

   "Mr. Kent," he smirked.  "I've been waiting for your arrival."

   Clark gave him a harsh look.  "Don't try and stop me."

   "Oh but Clark," Randolph stepped in closing the door.  "As Mr. Luthors chief security man, I have to stop anyone who would try and kidnap his son."

   "Kidnapping is what you and Lionel do," Clark stood firm to his full height before the slightly shorter man.  "I came here to rescue Lex from what ever you people have been doing to him.  I won't let you hurt him anymore."

   "I don't think you have much of a say in the matter," Randolph grinned.  "You see Clark, this little gun in my hand tells me that I am in control here, and if you don't back off, then I'll have to place another bottle of ashes in Lex's grave."

   "This was all your idea, wasn't it?" Clark asked eyeing the man suspiciously.  "You may not have started Lionel's deceptive little game, but you have been using all these events for your own gain."

   "Really," Randolph nodded his head.  "What does a snot nose dirt farmer like you know about anything?"

   "I know how to read," Clark frowned.  "I read a few of those legal forms I dropped off at the daily Planet that I got from Lionel's secret safe.  I know that you stand to gain all controlling shares of Luthor Corps and most of Lionel's personal assets if he or Lex is unable to perform their duties.  With Lionel being in jail and Lex driven over the edge, then you have your stage all set for a hostile take over."

   "What gives you the idea that I want Lionel to go to jail, Kid?" Randolph waved the gun.  "I haven't done anything to frame the guy.  You and your reporter friend took care of that."

    "Yeah," Clark slowly moved himself to stand in front of Lex where Randolph would be unable to get a shot at him if he tried.  "But I also know that Lionel knew the police were on to him, and he took the time to hide Lex, but he left behind some very incriminating evidence.  You see I found Lionel's written agreements with the Gotham City's Counsel to dump the meteor rock waist in the drinking water supply and not the landfill.  I guess he kept them all these years as his insurance policy against them, but I also know that Lionel is smart enough to have those forms destroyed with the police so close, but you didn't want that.  You kept them in the secret safe and hoped that the police would find that one too.  Or maybe just me," Clark thought again.  "That's why you placed them with this address.  You knew I was looking for Lex, and eventually I would find a way to find him, so you set me up to find those documents knowing I would turn them in, and you would look like the innocent and faithful servant this whole time.  I wouldn't even be surprised if you were the one feeding all those inside forms to Edge the whole time."

   "Very good kid," Randolph nodded.  "You've been studying your Hardy Boys novels all these years.  Too bad you are not going to get out and tell anyone."

   Randolph raised his gun to Clark's head.  "You see, Billy Bob, I haven't been playing Luthor like a banjo all these months and using this whole mystery to my advantage just to have you come along and destroy it for me.  My God, kid, I took down the entire Luthor Corps Empire almost single handedly with not one person even looking my way, so I am not going to let some little corn feed yokel from Tiny Town come along and derail my plans."

   Clark crossed his arms across his chest.  "Try me, Randolph.  You would be surprise at how much bran this corn feed yokel really caries."

   Randolph's hand shook slightly as he aimed the gun.  "I'm not kidding, kid," he sneered.  "I'll do what ever I have to do to stop you."

   "Then do it," Clark said leaning forward with gritted teeth.

   Randolph could not be sure if it was out of fear for taking such actions, or a dislike for this boy who was taunting him, but he began to fire the gun frantically as the silencer muffled the sounds of the speeding bullets.

   After the first three rounds were released, Randolph was able to focus enough to watch Clark, and his jaw dropped as he watched the young man grasping at the bullets and pull them out of mid air and holding the hot and molting lead in his hands.

   When the clip was emptied, Randolph dropped the gun and stood in astonishment at Clark's efforts.  He was paralyzed with wonderment and fear all at the same time.  He stood slacked jawed as Clark jiggled the small lead objects in his hand.

   "How?" Randolph finally found his voice.  "How did you do that?"

   Clark looked up from his fist of lead with a grin.  "Adrenalin I guess."

   "You're a freak, Kent," Randolph gushed.

   Clark took each of the bullets one by one tossing them a great speed at the outside wall.  He made it a point for them to hit with a small puff of smoke as he spoke.  "You see, Mr. Randolph.  You don't want to make me angry.  You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

   "I'm going to tell the whole world what you just did kid," Randolph warned.

   "You do that," Clark grabbed his collar.  "And you'll be sleeping in the very next room." He held his free hand to the blond man's head and tapped his palm against his frontal lobe.  The thud was gentle, but still strong enough to knock Randolph out cold.

   Clark let his form fall to the ground, and he returned his attention to Lex.  Even after all the commotion, Lex had not been stirred back to reality.  In some small way, Clark had hope he would have witness his display of speed and strength and force himself back to the real world, but he knew now that it had not worked.

   Moving slowly and with great care, Clark scooped the warmly wrapped Lex up into his arms and gentle leaned his head on his chest.  Clark tried to rejoice within from the fact that he had found his best friend and brother, but a small part of him could not help but grieve as he pulled him closer and leaned his own head against Lex.  A small tear rolled down Clark's face as he spoke into his temple.  "I got you, Lex," he cried.  "I'm going to take you home."

   He took a few steps including a larger one to step over Randolph's slumped body.  Clark pause a brief second before he opened the door.  He allowed his eyes to drift back down to Lex's head.  "I'll do my part first, buddy," he whispered.  "Then you have to do your part and come home to me."

   With that said, Clark opened the door and stepped out into the emptied hall.  The next part of the journey had begun, and Clark was taking Lex home.

   The late evening air was warm and soothing as Clark sat in the back of the pickup truck cradling Lex.   He sat silently watching his friend after he had closed his eyes, and pretended that he was sleeping and not in a vegetable state of mind.  He held tightly onto Lex as he prayed to the merciful God above to show pity and allow this soul to be awoken, again.  His prayers went on for hours until his own trance was shocked back to reality by a thud on the side of the truck bed.

   "They're here," Jonathan, said stepping out of the cab.  "Get Lex ready to move."

   Clark began to tuck the blankets neatly around him again as he saw a small corporate jet landing on the airfield several hundred yards away.  By the time he had handed Lex over to his father and jumped off the truck, the plane was taxiing and pulled up about fifty feet away from them before coming to a full stop.

   "I've got Lex," Jonathan assured his son.  "Go greet your friends and I'll bring him along.

   Clark gave his father a long look before he allowed himself to know that Lex was safe with him, and he then broke away and walked towards the plane.

   The hatch to the black plane opened and even before the pilot had fully locked the door that doubled as the step in place, Chloe Sullivan came running down the tarmac and jumped into Clark's waiting arms.

   "Oh Clark," she hugged the stuffing out of him.  "We were so worried.  I thought you were going all Howard Huge on us, and were going to hide from reality."

   "I couldn't do that, Chloe," Clark returned her embrace with a large grin.  "Besides, I know you would hunt me down eventually."

   "So don't even try it," Chloe giggled as she pulled away.  "I'm so glad you are not road kill, Clark.  We had no idea where you went."

   "Yeah," Lana Lang came up behind Chloe and took a second to give him a kiss on the cheek.  "You had us worried Clark Kent.  Why didn't you tell us Alfred was having you flown back here?"

   Clark looked over their shoulder at Alfred who waited by the plane, and gave him a silent 'thank you for the cover' with his eyes.

   "I," Clark lowered his head.  "I wasn't sure if I had a lead to follow, but I knew I needed to get back here."

   "And you did it," Chloe shook his arm.  "You found Lex."

   "Yeah," Clark's face almost lit up, but there was still more that was not cleared up with his friend just yet.

   "Chloe and Lana," Pete came running from the truck and gave each of them a big hugged.  "Wait until I tell you what has happen to me."

   Chloe laughed at his excitement.  "Well it can't be any more dangerous than how I almost broke my shoulder," she said with a grin.

   "Oh yeah," Pete smirked as Martha walked up behind him.  "Lex almost broke my head and Lionel took the blame for it."

   They giggled for a few moments, as the pressure from their ordeal seemed to have finally lifted.  Then Martha looked over at Lana.  "So Lana, how about you?" she asked.  "Did you end up breaking anything in this whole mess?"

   "Yeah, Mrs. Kent," she looked away shyly.  "My heart."

   Martha gave them all a puzzled look, and then pulled Lana into a hug.  "Don't worry about it Lana," she spoke softly with a lilt to her voice.  "I'm sure it won't be the last time, but after a while, you will look at it as a journey of small aches until you find the right man who will pick up all the pieces and put them back together for you.  Bigger and better than ever."

   "Thank you Mrs. Kent," Lana returned the embrace.  "Right now I just want to see Nell and see with my own eyes that she really is okay."

   "It looks like the Scooby Crew has come through again," Pete slapped Clark on the back.  "Everything is back to the way it should be."

   "No everything," Chloe's tone became soft and solemn as they all looked over and saw Jonathan approaching with Lex in his arms.

   Clark rushed over and took his friend from his father's arms.  "I got him, Dad."

   Jonathan and Martha watched from each other's arms as he handled his friend with such great care and gentleness.  They didn't want to have to say it, but Jonathan finally broke the silence once they had all gathered around.

   "It's time, son," he spoke softly.  "You need to get out of here before someone discovers Mr. Wayne's jet has landed."

   "Yeah," Clark forced a smile as he looked up at them.

   "We left the car for you to drive yourself back," Chloe said softly.  "Alfred has the key and has promised to give you gas money."

   Clark gave her a cute and short smile.  "Thanks, Chloe," he turned to each of them.  "Thank you to all off you.  I know you all didn't believe me, but I want to thank you all for standing by me and for enduring this whole ordeal while I had to solve this mystery."

   "We were in this together," Lana said with a gentle smile.  "All of us worked as a team in one way or another, and we were able to achieve the goal."

   "We did," Clark forced back a tear as he looked down at Lex.

   Lana kissed his cheek again.  "Thank you for a summer I will never forget, Clark."

   "Me too," Chloe kissed his other cheek.  "How many other girls can say they have known two real super heroes."

   Clark blushed as the girls walked away.

   "Yeah, Clark," Pete smacked his arm.  "You're a real stand up guy.  Be careful and I'll see you in a few days."

   Martha brushed Lex's head as she and Jonathan stood before Clark.  "Chloe doesn't know how true her statement is, Clark," she looked up into her son's eyes.  "All your friends are lucky to have such a wonderful friend as you."

   "Hey," Clark refuted softly.  "I only learned it from the best."

   Jonathan glanced over at the jet.  "Bruce Wayne?'

   "His butler, Alfred Pennyworth," Clark corrected.  "I didn't know who else to call who could help me hide Lex, and Alfred has been a real good friend through all of this."

   "He knows, doesn't he," Jonathan asked while eyeing to see if Lex made any indication of being conscious.

   "Yeah," Clark gave him big puppy dog eyes.  "I was having a real hard time with the water and stuff over in Gotham, and Alfred kinda figured it out.  He saved my life, Dad."

   Jonathan took another glance over at Alfred.  "Well, I guess we don't have a choice in this, do we?"

   "He's a butler, Jonathan," Martha reminded.  "I'm sure he has all types of secrets to keep.  He should be safe."

   Jonathan nodded once.  "I have a feeling you both might be right on this one," he returned with a small smile.  "Now you go get Lex settled in, and get back here before anyone figures out where you took him, and the police don't brand you as a fugitive again."

   "I will," Clark assured them.  "I just want to give it a few days and try and help Lex wake up, but I'll work double time on the farm when I get back."

   "I'm sure you will," Jonathan patted his shoulder.  "Be careful, son."

   Martha leaned in and kissed his cheek.  "Remember that we love you and we'll be waiting at home when you get back."

  "I will," Clark kissed her back.

   "Clark," Jonathan grabbed his arm one last time and looked into his son's eyes.  "Where ever Lex is right now in his mind, don't let him pull you in there.  You are our son and we want you back with us."

   "I know, Dad."

   "I mean it son," Jonathan took a serious tone.  "Please don't let your guilt for what happen to Lex destroy you.  We know you care about your friend, but you have allot of other people who love you and need you with them, too."

   Clark nodded his head, and he knew his father was right.  Wherever Lex was right now in his own head, he could not allow that darkness to engulf him too.  At some point, if Lex did not wake up, then he would have to except that and move on.  With or with out his friend at his side, there was still a world out there for Clark Kent, and he needed to go on living.

   Clark gave them one last quick look and then made his way over to the door of the plane where Alfred greeted him with a smile.  Clark walked up the steps and took one last look at his family and friends as they gathered by the truck.  He gave them his best forced smiled and then disappeared into the hull of the plane.  Alfred followed and closed the hatch behind them.

   Jonathan and Martha Kent, along with Lana Lang, Chloe Sullivan and Pete Ross watched as the plane taxied away and then the bright lights on the wings disappeared into the night sky.

   The Wayne Enterprises jet had been in the air nearly an hour when Alfred finally stepped in to the main seating compartment.  He saw where Clark had belted Lex into one of the plush seats, and Clark sat across from him in the other seat facing Lex's, only he was not looking up.  Clark had his face buried in his hands and was speaking softly.  Alfred knew enough to know that the dark haired lad had been in prayer since the first moment they had lifted off the ground in rural Kansas.  He made his steps lightly as he walked through the cabin and checked on Lex's condition.

   They had placed a shoulder harness over Lex to make he would not fall or slump forward while in flight. Alfred checked the fasteners and made sure that they were secured and then he turned to Clark.

   "Master Clark," He spoke softly. 

   Clark looked up from his hands with a sorrowful face.

    "Is there anything I could get for you, sir?" Alfred asked placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

   Clark sat back in his seat with a sigh.  "No, Alfred," he let out a shallow breath.  "When do we arrive in Gotham?"

   "Not for a short while yet," Alfred said with a worried brow.  "We do have a bed in the next compartment," he told Clark.  "Could I not interest you in taking a nap.  I would be most happy to watch after Mister Luthor."

   "No," Clark shook his head.  His voice was getting lower and the weariness of the events beating on him the past few days were beginning to take their toll.  He could barely keep his head up or his eyes opened, but still Clark refused to leave his friends side.

   Alfred sat for a moment in the seat next to Lex.  "Would you like to talk about it?"

   Clark tilted his head to meet with Alfred's concerned eyes.  "There's nothing to talk about, Alfred.  I did it, I found Lex, and here he is," his hand lifted in a short live point.

   Alfred eyed Lex for a second then turned back to Clark.  "Indeed, sir."

   Clark ran his eyes over Lex again before meeting Alfred's stare.  "He's not waking up, Alfred."

   "Perhaps it is too soon," Alfred returned.

   "But I found him, I saved him," Clark words were almost insistent.  "I have been praying for him for hours, and still, he won't wake up."

   "Do you fear that moving him might have been a mistake?" Alfred asked.

   "I'm not sure," Clark shrugged.  "I know I needed to get him away from Lionel and Randolph before they could hide him any deeper or make matters worst, but I think by rushing him out of the hospital, I may have aggravated his condition."

   "Perhaps Doctor Thompkins will have more insight when she meets us in Gotham," Alfred tried to ease his worries.

   "I don't know," Clark sank in his seat.  "I don't know what to do to get through to him.  I've done everything short of shaking the living daylights out of him."

   "Perhaps you are not required to do anything for him," Alfred raised an eyebrow.  "Perhaps you have done all that you can and God has heard your prayer.  Perhaps now is the time to receive your miracle."

   Clark studied the stately older man with years of wisdom far beyond his age.

   "Perhaps," Alfred picked Lex's hand up off his lap.  "The work is already done, Master Clark.  Now should be the time for resting and receiving what you have prayed for."  He placed the limp hand into Clark's.

   Alfred stood up and smiled down at Clark again.  "Your family. Friends and your Lord know what you desire of your friend, Master Clark.  Perhaps it is time that you told him.  Call Lex back to this world.  Let him know that it is safe again, and you are here waiting."

   With his point made, Alfred stood tall again and walked back into the separate cabin area.

   Clark sat silent for a long time just staring at his sleeping friend across the aisle.  After several minutes, he rose from his seat and took the one just vacated by Alfred to Lex's left.  He still held firmly to the hand, and he allowed Lex's tilted head to rest on his shoulder.  Clark wrapped his right arm around Lex and he pulled himself in close.

   "So," Clark giggled to himself.  "Do you come here often?"

   His small joke was met with no response from Lex.

   Clark rested his chin on Lex's forehead.  "So here we are again," his already soft voice cracked.  "The last time I held you like this, you died on me, Lex."

   The memories still played hard on Clark's mind and his chest began to heave up and down again.  "You left me, Lex," his eyes began to welt up.  "And now here we are after all the land mines we have had to navigate through, and you are here but you're still gone."

   Clark's left hand shook Lex's slightly  "You can't do this Lex," he gasped for a second.  "You are the strongest and most determined guy I know.  You can't have given up so easy.  You cannot have lost your mind with out any possibility of returning.  I can not believe that the great Alexander Luthor could be defeated so easily."

   "What was it, Lex?" Clark asked as a tear rolled down his face.  "Was it the drugs?  Was it all the time they had you locked up in that room?  What did they do to you to break your spirit like this?  What did they do to break you, Lex?"

   Clark glanced down, but still there was no response.  He returned Lex's head to his chest and he continued.  "Lionel told you I was dead, but I'm not Lex.  I'm here and I want you to come back.  You're my best friend, Lex.  I don't think I could have made it through the last year with out having you and your mansion to retreat to when ever I thought I couldn't handle the ills of this world anymore.  You are my rock buddy.  The only person who accepts my faults with out any questions.  You don't expect me to have all the answers or the funniest jokes or to do the right thing all the time.  You don't even know who Clark Kent is, but still you welcome him as he is."

   Lifting his head in between his hands, Clark lifted Lex's face to his.  He pushed his eyes open with his thumbs and he search his deep blue eyes for any signs that he might be getting through to him.  "Please, Lex," Clark pleaded to his eyes.  "You are with me here and now.  Please don't still be dead."

   "I'm alive Lex," Clark's voiced cracked again.  "Be alive with me."

   Clark released Lex and placed him leaning back in the seat.  He knew that Lex was not in there, and wondered how long it would take to get use to that fact.  Clark tuned away and began to shake as his crying got the better of him, and he covered his face again with his hands.

   "Please God," Clark moaned.  "Don't take him again."

   Clark sat silent for several more minutes as he sobbed.  They were miles above everyone and miles from those who would do them harm, so Clark did not hold back his emotion.  He wept like a child for his lost friend, and he tried to hold tightly to what remained of the lost soul.  He was still deep in mourning when he felt it.  Something was slowly making its way up his shivering back.

   Clark turned slightly and he looked into Lex's eyes.  Those big blue strong eyes that had been dead a few moments earlier were beginning to glaze over with tears.  The pupils were reactive to light again. And they moved slightly when Clark's hand grasped his.

   "Lex?" What voice he had left was shrilled and horse all at the same time, but still Clark continued to speak as he held tightly to his hand.  "Lex, oh my God, Lex."

   Lex's lips tried to move, but there were no words and no sound.  His hand moved around to Clark's chest and it clasped firmly onto his shirt.

   "Lex," Clark continued to cry as saliva built up on the side of his mouth from all his tears. His nose was running and his eyes were blood shot red with puffy sacks beneath them, but still Clark cried with a brilliant smile pasted on his face.  "Lex, you're coming back.  Don't stop buddy.  I'm here.  I won't leave you.  I'm here and I'm alive and so are you, Lex." Clark had to watch his strength and not crush his friend's hands that were both now in his and the excitement built within him.  "I'm taking you somewhere safe where no one can hurt you anymore, Lex.  You're going to be okay."

    The hands in Clark's began to twist into vise like fist as the lips of Lex Luthor let out the most horrendous sound of a moan and a wale that Clark had ever heard.  The tears came streaming from Lex's eyes as he began gasping for air.  He was like a man drowning in water making his way above the waves.

   "You're okay," Clark assured him one more time.  "You're okay."

   Lex seemed to loose all his ability to control himself when Clark released the shoulder harness and he fell into Clark's chest tugging at the material of his shirt as if to burry himself there.

   Clark wrapped his arms tightly around his friend as they sank deeper into the seats.  He held Lex as they both cried into the night.  There were questions to ask and stories to tell, but all of that would have to wait as they held tightly to each other.  Two lost souls as ships in the night and had lost there way, had finally found their way back to each other.

   Lex Luthor and Clark Kent were cemented together that day as the legends they would surely become.  Each was a part of the other, and each would play a part of the other for the next eternity to come.

**The End?**

**(Next week, the wrap up.)**

Hey Gang, First off I want to say how sorry I am that this chapter has taken so long to post, but I won't go into details and bore you, just let me thank you for waiting.  I just hope this chapter and the final Epilogue to come will be worth it.

To Marrie: Thank you for your continued support and for reading.  I watch for your name after every chapter.  It's flattering to know that I have you talking to your computer.  I will sometimes crack up when reading stuff at work, and then everyone looks at me funny.  They don't do Smallville fan fiction, and then they want me to explain why what someone wrote was so funny.  I've also shed a few tears here and there too.

To LaCasta:  Thank you for your kind words.  It's always nice to hear that people like my stuff.

To MitchPell:  Thank you so much as usual, and for caring enough to send me an email asking/demanding the next chapter.  It's nice to know people care.  As you can see, Lex may be on his way back to reality after all, but there are allot of emotional and physical scars to be dealt with, and I hope the next chapter will be able to show that well enough to see what might be going on in his head.  Again, I want to let you know how much your interest and support has meant to me through this entire story.  THANK YOU. 

To Robyn: Thank for the nod on using the song in chapter nineteen.  I have always been a big fan of musical montages on shows where the music fits the characters emotions.  Soap Operas do it allot, and now some of the more trendy shows are trying it out too.

To Suz:  Thanks again, and I hope that this chapter has answered allot of your questions.  My main problem now is making sure all the twist and turns along with the plot devices that I used along the way all work together and end up being believable in the end.  To be honest, that may have had something to do with why, on top of all the other issues with the holidays and stuff, that it took so long for me to actually get these last two chapter done.  Either that, or I'm just plain lazy.

To Dante de Troy: Sorry you haven't been enjoying the story because of all the trivial mishaps, but thanks for writing and giving your view.  I truly am sorry to all the people who are upset by my use of the wrong words or misspellings, but I do try hard and so does Christin in trying to catch these mistakes, but these things happen.  I guest my one true saving grace is that these stories are free, so try and enjoy them.

To jeannie81: Thanks for the nod and I hope you enjoy the ending.

To Angledust: Thank you for your kind words, and I'm glad you like the story.  I hope you enjoy the ending.

To Lauren: Thank you so much for your compliments and I'm glad you like the story.  It took me weeks to actually get through the death screen when I wrote them, so I really put my heart into them.  I'm glad you were able to enjoy them in the manner they were meant to be.  Thanks for reading.

Well that's it gang for another chapter, and the final epilogue is at the proofreader now, so I hope Christin will have it done soon.  It was actually going to be a ten page run down and rounding up of all the story plots, but I actually ended up with over thirty eight pages of story, so I hope you will enjoy it.  See you next time.

Best Wishes and God Bless

Phaze


	22. Epilogue

A Death In The Family:  Epiloguetc "A Death In The Family\:  Epilogue" 

   The rain from the last three days had saturated the entire area around Wayne Manor as the large black limo drove through the electronically controlled gates onto the stately grounds of the estate.  The sun was once again shining over Gotham city on this bright and cool morning in mid-August.  Cool days were not usual in this part of the country at this time of year, so the occupant of the rented car's backseat took advantage of the breeze. He opened the window to enjoy the smell of the roses from the large garden a few yards away and the scent of freshly mowed grass.

   Clark Kent leaned his dark and handsome face out the window and took in the splendor of the sprawling mansion before him.  He wondered if it's owner, Bruce Wayne, had ever taken the time to enjoy the simple beauty of the landscape, but some how Clark was almost sure that the solemn and stoic man had not.

   The car pulled up in front of the main entrance where Alfred Pennyworth was waiting nearby wearing his usual smart black suit and cleaned pressed white shirt under the matching vest.  His shoes were black and shining as always, and he wore a slight smile under his thin mustache.  The middle-aged Englishman admired the spark of youth in Clark and delighted in his simple pleasures, such as the lowered window to smell the air.

   Alfred approached the back door of the vehicle when it came to a complete stop and opened it.  He grinned again as he watched Clark stepping out and glancing at the large building.

   "I never get over this place," Clark remarked wearing a handsome gray sport coat over an open collar, light blue button down shirt with white tee shirt beneath.  He also wore a pair of gray Docker pleated pants and brown loafers with white crew socks.  He had his backpack flung over his shoulder and his hand shook Alfred's briskly.

   "I trust your flight was comfortable," Alfred raised an eyebrow.

   "Yeah," Clark pretended to stretch and brush himself off.  "I think I can get use to having a private jet.  Even with the fact that I hate to fly, I could really get use to this type of living."

   "Indeed," Alfred grinned.  "I do, however, hope that you did not again replace all of Master Bruce's high scores on his video games.  The Master does so dislike being in second place."

   "No, Alfred," Clark leaned in.  "I used his name every time I got the high score.  So as long as he doesn't remember his last rating, he should be fine."

   The two men began their walk up the front steps in through the front door.  "I do apologize for not picking you up myself," Alfred spoke as they climbed the stairs.  "I thought it best to remain here and aid Mister Lex with his final packing."

   "I understand," Clark nodded.  "I can't believe it has been almost two weeks since I last visited you guys.  I hope he hasn't been too much of a problem."

   "On the contrary," Alfred replied.  "I was prepared for a much more difficult time after all the rumors I had heard about our friend over the years, but I found him to be quite a different man then his reputation states."

   "Yeah, Lex doesn't always act like your typical rich kid," Clark joked.  "Sometimes he's just a snotty brat all on his own."

   Alfred turned towards Clark as they stopped before the door to one of the rooms.  "Well, I shall miss having the company now that he is leaving and you will not be visiting any longer."

   "Oh, come on, Alfred," Clark sighed.  "You know I'm a simple guy at heart.  All you have to do the next time you're lonely is send the private jet to fetch me, and I'll be happy to endure the torture of staying here again for a few days.

   "Indeed," Alfred raised his eyebrow again with a quirky grin.

   "But seriously," Clark put a hand on Alfred's shoulder.  "If I haven't made it clear before," he spoke in a highly respecting tone.  "I want to thank you so much for all you and Bruce have done for me and my friends.  Especially by taking Lex in and giving him a place to hide and recover while the whole mess with his father was being sorted out."

   "It was my pleasure," Alfred nodded politely.  "And it is I who has had the honor to serve such a noble and kind person as yourself, Master Clark."

   Clark pulled him in for a short hug.  "You're one of the real good guys, Alfred."

   "I do try," Alfred said backing away.  "Now once you and Master Lex are ready, I shall be waiting at the car to escort you back to the airport."

   "Sure, " Clark reached for the door knob.  "We should be right down."

   He gave the door a soft knock, and then Clark peeked his head into the room.  "Hey, Lex," he called out.  "Are you decent?"

   "Come in, Clark," Lex stood at the foot of the bed folding the last of his clothes into his suitcase.

   Clark slipped his slender form into the room, closing the door.  "Oh, good," he smirked.  "I wasn't sure if I was going to have to explain what the word 'decent' meant."

   Lex tuned and gave his friend a wry look.  "Bite me, Kent."

   "Okay," Clark sighed, slipping his hands into his pants pocket and dropping the backpack on the floor.  "You are getting back to your old chipper self."

   Lex stopped what he was doing and turned around to face his friend.  The trials of his last few months were no longer highly visible on his even thinner body with the exception of slight dark rings under his eyes and persistent limp in his walk.  Lex also found himself favoring his good arm and would often have to fight off headaches from the serious concussions after effect.  The scars under his clothes, as well as the headaches, seemed to be becoming less noticeable and troublesome as he learned to live with them.  His strength had also finally started returning as he spent several hours each day in the mansion's private gym.  For his entire ordeal, Lex was again returning to his old self.

    Clark watched attentively as Lex placed his pajamas into the shoulder bag.  "Alfred packed the rest of my stuff while I was eating breakfast before my shower this morning," he explained as he zippered up the bag.  "I tried to hire him on at my place, but he's committed to Bruce."

   "They've been together for a long time, Lex," Clark pointed out.

   "I guess," Lex shrugged.  "I never had a servant so dedicated and close to me like Alfred is to Bruce.  Not to mention he has this place locked down like a fortress while his master is away."

   "Bruce has allot of idiosyncrasies," Clark smiled.  "Sorta like another rich guy I know,"

   Lex glared over his shoulder.  "Gee, thanks, Kent."

   Clark could not remove the smile from his face as he watched Lex gather up the last of his things and place them into the bag's side pockets.  He marveled how well his friend seemed to be adjusting to life again.

   After a few minutes, Lex noticed that Clark was staring.  "What is it, Clark?" He questioned.  "Are my clothes not right?" Lex examined his dark blue blazer over his purple silk dress shirt with navy blue tie to match the blazer and smart dark blue dress pants over his black polished shoes.

   "No, Lex," Clark shook his head with the same grin.  "You look fine.  In fact, you look great for a guy just back from the dead."

   Lex looked up into his friend's eyes.  "Clark," he started.

   "Hey," Clark's face became serious as the memories over took him.  "I didn't mean that in a bad way."

   "I know," Lex stopped what he was doing and approached his friend.  "I know I said it before, but since you haven't been able to visit in the last few weeks,"

   "Farm work," Clark shrugged nervously.  "You know how it is."

   "Yes, I do," Lex grabbed Clark's shaking arm.  "But will you let me finish?  I want to thank you, Clark," he rushed out before he could be stopped again.  "I want to thank you for saving my life again.  I had no idea that you thought I was dead when I called you, so I can only imagine what was going through your mind and how that must have messed you up. But still you went with your heart, and you believed I was alive when everyone else thought I was dead."

   "I couldn't ignore the call," Clark fidgeted.  "I knew it was your voice."

   "I also know that a whole lot of people told you it was a sick joke or something in your head, but still you fought for me, Clark," Lex said with a serious tone.  "No one has ever had that type of faith in me.  There are not a whole lot of people who would have defied his folks and the law to follow what could have been a prank call."

   Clark lowered his head as he spoke.  "I think I always knew in my heart that you were not dead, Lex.  Of course I didn't want you dead, but I also felt that there was something wrong the whole time.  It was like maybe we are connected Lex, and if you were dead, I would have known it deep inside, and I didn't.  In some strange way, I could feel that there was a life force still alive, and when I got your call, I knew I had to try and find out why you were still alive in me."

   "Wow," Lex sat on the edge of the bed.  "I don't think I ever had that type of a bond with someone before, Clark.  I know I was close with my Mom, and she and I had a special connection, but I thought it was all in my mind after she died.  I figured I had dreamed the whole thing up just so I could say I felt close to her."

   "Well," Clark returned with a sigh.  "Maybe now you can know that you are close with someone again."

   "You, Clark," Lex looked up.  "You and I have shared a special connection ever since that day on the bridge.  I just wish I could feel it like you do."

   "Don't get me wrong, Lex," Clark added with a bit of haste.  "When you died in my arms, I was ready to buy the whole bit.  I mean it was very convincing.  Your pulse stopped and your breathing just went, well, dead.  I saw the color drain from you, and your body went limp."

   "I know," Lex stared down at the rug.  "I think they used some type of drug developed in my father's lab, and for a few seconds or minutes, I think I really was clinically dead.  They thought they were helping, but in the long run, I think those drugs were what made my whole recovery even worse.  They kept drugging me and trying to keep me while the medication was still reeking havoc on my body."

   Clark walked slowly around him and sat on the bed next to his friend.  "What happened, Lex?" he asked softly.  "Do you remember what happened to you when you seemed to loose your mind?"

   Lex looked across the room and thought for a good long minute.  "I don't remember it all, but when my Dad told me that I had killed you, I lost it, Clark.  I had been trying to get out of that room for days, and in the back of my head, I knew you would be the one who found me.  That was why I fought so hard against the drugs and I was able to get up enough energy to get to the phone and make that call." Lex thought back.  "I guess they increased the drugs after that, and between them and my lost hope of ever escaping my father's prison for me, I just snapped and retreated to the far corners of my mind."

    Clark sat silent as they both stared at their feet.

   "I think you were there, Clark," Lex finally spoke again.  "When I was hiding in my thoughts, I think you were there."

   "Do you remember it?"  Clark asked.

   "Mostly, no," Lex gushed.  "But I can see glimpses of it in my mind's eye if I really concentrate.  "You were there with me and my mother, and I think Lana and Chloe were there, too," a smile came to his face.  "Your folks were there, too, Clark.  I think I remember seeing your mom and dad."

   "Don't tell my dad that," Clark nudged him.  "It would be a real kick in the head."

   "Alfred told me that he helped," Lex turned to Clark.

   "Yeah, he helped me get you to the jet to meet with Alfred after I found you," Clark explained.  "Your father put my folks through a lot while you were gone.  But now that you are alive, you can help drop any wrongful death charges that they have against them."

   "I will, Clark," Lex nodded.  "I'm just sorry that so many people had to suffer for my father trying to protect me.  I mean, when I think of how all of this started and his poisoning the drinking supply here in Gotham, I just can't believe he would be so cruel.  It's like I don't even know the guy."

   "Hey," Clark tried to put on a cheery face.  "What matters is that we are all safe now, and your father will have to deal with his own legal problems this afternoon by himself.  What matters to me right now is that you have had more than three weeks here in Wayne Manor to recover, and you are doing a whole lot better."

   "Thanks to you, Clark," Lex gave a short smile.  "I really mean it when I say that I would not be alive today if it were not for you.  The whole time I was in and out of consciousness, I knew I had to survive because I knew you wanted me to live.  You were the only person who I thought would even care, and I was right."

   "No, Lex," Clark shook his head.  "There were a whole lot of people who cared.  Every one of them helped out in some small way, and I hope someday you can learn to believe that.  We care about you."

   Lex glanced up at Clark.  "When I look at your face Clark, I almost do."

   Clark leaned over and hugged his friend.  "Welcome back, Lex."

   "Thanks, Clark," Lex returned the hug.

   Clark pulled back and stared at him for a moment.

   "What is it?" Lex asked.

   "I just realized I never hugged a real, live, dead person before," Clark cracked a grin.

   Lex rolled his eyes.  "Clark, you have a really sick sense of humor."

   "So," Clark stood up.  "What was it like?  Being dead, I mean."

   "I don't know," Lex shrugged.  "It has it up sides.  I didn't have to pay my taxes for two months."

   "You pay taxes?" Clark glanced back.  "Do rich people do that?'

   "Well, not as much as poor people now that the republicans are in control again, but yeah," Lex joked.  "You should really give being dead a try."

   "I don't know," Clark faked a grimace.  "I would be too afraid to find out that no one came to my funeral."

   "Oh, come on, Clark," Lex smiled.  "I'm sure there will be all types of really super people at your funeral."

   Clark picked up his backpack.  "Would you be there, Lex?"

   "With my dancing shoes," Lex returned, zipping the last pouch on his bag.

   "Ouch," Clark retorted.

   Lex gave a long sigh.  "I guess this is it," he glanced around the room as he stood over his bag.  "I think I have everything."

   "Not yet," Clark walked over with his backpack and placed it next to Lex's suitcase on the bed.  "There's one more thing," he reached into his pack and pulled out a fairly large object wrapped in white tissue paper.

   Taking the gift from Clark's hand, Lex gave him a suspicious eye.

   "It's safe, Lex," Clark smirked.  "The practical jokes will come when I know you're strong enough to handle them."

   Lex raised an eyebrow.  "Thanks, I think."  He slowly ripped away at the wrapping and his pulse began to quicken as he saw what was in the package.  He looked up at his friend with big, emotion-filled eyes.

   "You left it behind at the Luthor Corps building," Clark explained.  "I thought since you thought enough to keep with you the whole time, then you might like to have it back."

   "I don't know how to thank you, Clark," Lex almost stuttered as he pulled out his wooden horse that he treasured so much. The horse that Clark had given him the Christmas before.  He admired the solid wooden object again.

   "I took it home and tried to fix it up a little after all the beatings it took while you were locked up," Clark explained as his own breathing became labored.  "It was a big clue in my knowing you were alive, and how to find you."

   Lex's hands were shaking as he stared at the toy.

   "I tried to get back to it's original shape, but there were a lot of gashes and dents I couldn't carve out, without reshaping it so it would no longer look like a horse," Clark told him.  "I hope you still like it."

   Lex turned to look at his best friend.  "Not liking this horse would be like my not wanting to care about you anymore, Clark.  This little piece of shapeless wood means the world to me.  It was the one thing I demanded that my father bring me from my house when I was in that room," his eyes began to tear up.  "This was the one thing that gave me hope, Clark.  This told me that our friendship was stronger than anything the world would have to throw at me.  I knew that I would survive every time I looked at this horse, because I knew that someone would care if I didn't."

   "I do care, Lex," Clark returned with his own eyes glazed over.  "I always will."

   "Thanks, Clark," Lex wrapped his arms around Clark's neck.  It was the first time that Clark could ever remember Lex being the one who hugged him first, but it was still welcomed, and he wrapped his arms around Lex.

   "Don't you ever die on me again, Lex," Clark moaned with his eyes held tightly shut.

   The long silent hug was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

   "Come in Alfred," they both said at the same time which gave way to a few giggles.

   Alfred walked in and saw them both standing separately drying their eyes on their sleeves.

   "I don't mean to disturb you," Alfred said with a puzzled look.  "But I do believe that if you do not get on your way at once, then you shall miss the court date for the hearing this afternoon."

   "Sure," Clark returned.  "We're ready."

   "Yeah," Lex reached for his bag.

   "I got it," Clark gently slapped his hand away slinging his own backpack over his shoulder.

   Lex shrugged and carried the horse in his hand instead.  When he reached the door, Alfred eyed the toy.

   "It's a gift," Lex said with a grin.  "Actually it's more like a life line from a real good friend."

   "Indeed," Alfred smiled back.  "The best of friends I would say."

   "Awe shucks, guys," Clark pretended to blush.  "You're gonna make me feel bad."

   "Shut up, Kent," Lex gave him a dumb look.  "Just carry the bag."

   When they were all in the hall, Clark nudged Alfred.  "Hey, look," he pointed to Lex who was a few feet ahead.  "Dead man walking."

   "Good grief, Kent," Lex sighed with a small grin.

   "Oh, now he's Charlie Brown," Clark continued to joke.  "Does that make me Linus?  You know you're going to need to grow one curly hair on the top of your head to pull this off, Chuck."

   Lex pretended to be frustrated with his friend, but in truth, he would not have given Clark up at that moment for the world.

   The Metropolis courthouse was already swarming with reporters and onlookers by the time Jonathan and Martha Kent arrived shortly before one in the afternoon.  They parked the truck and walked to the front door hand in hand.  They tried to shield themselves from the flashes and crushing swarm of reporters, but still, two police officers needed to clear a path so they could get through the front door.

   Even inside the corridors of the building, there seemed to be hoards of reporters everywhere.  Martha held tightly to Jonathan's arms as a court appointed officer lead them in the right direction.

   "I can't believe this feeding frenzy," Martha said quietly into her husband's ear.  "These people are like piranhas."

   "They're doing their job, Martha," he reminded her eyeing the people cautiously as they passed by.  "The cable news channels have been running the Luthor story twenty-four seven since it broke, so this should be no big surprise."

   "I never thought I would see the day when a simple farm family like ours would be dragged into a story of international interest like this," she returned.  "I just hope we can get this whole thing cleared up and over with soon."

   "When Clark shows up with Lex, I'm sure our part in this whole mess will be cleared up," He assured her as they turned a corner.  "We had very little involvement with the Edge and Luthor connection.  It's Chloe with all that proof and information."

   "I just shutter when I think how Clark almost drowned in that water filled with Meteor residue," Martha sighed.  "Lionel has no idea how close he came to killing our son."  

   "I don't think we will have to worry about him much longer," A smile almost came to his face as they walked through a doorway.  "Lionel will get what's coming to him."

   "Still," Martha frowned.  "I can't help but feel a little sorry for him."

   Jonathan looked down at his wife.  "Are you serious, Martha?"

   "Yes," she replied a little hesitantly.  "I mean he has to answer for everything he has done, but he was also trying to protect his son in all of this."

   Jonathan took a deep breath as another door was opened and they stepped into a fairly large waiting room.  They saw that the room was lined with wooden chairs and two large tables were pushed together in the center of it.

   "This is where you will need to wait," the handsome young guard informed them.  The grand jury will be meeting in the next room with the judge as they decide on whether or not to try Mr. Luthor.  You and the other witnesses will be called in on your turn, and give your testimonies."

   "What then?"  Martha asked.

   "You will be asked to wait here until the jury convenes," he continued.  "We need you all in the building in case they have any more questions."

   "Thank you," Jonathan nodded his head.

   The guard nodded back, and left the room.

   Martha walked over to the bookcase in the far corner and began flipping through the old magazines.  "I wonder if they remove anything that might have to do with the cases from these magazines."

   "Judging from the looks of them," Jonathan peeked over her shoulder.  "I don't think anything we learn from the news when Carter was still in office will influence our testimonies."

   Martha giggled as she too noticed how old the books were.  "Well I'm sure they are not as careful in here as they would be in the jury room."

   "Maybe not," he grasped her shoulder and spun her around slowly.  "But I have more pressing matters to talk about."  He pierced her eyes with his own.  "Now what were you trying to tell me when you said that you feel sorry for Lionel?"

   "Jonathan," she frowned.  "I was just stating that Lionel was trying to protect Lex, and I feel sorry that he has to go through all of this right now."

   "Lionel brought this on himself," Jonathan reminded.  "If he hadn't of tried to play God with the Gotham drinking water, then none of this would have happened."

   "I know," she moved away and leaned on one of the tables.  "I just can't help but think what we would have done if it were Clark who needed the protection."

   "We wouldn't have broken the law or tried to make someone else the scapegoat," he said firmly turning to her.  "Lionel has hurt a lot of people trying to hide his son, much less we forget what he did to Gotham City.  He deserves to stand trial, and that is what we are here to see to."

   "I'm glad to here you say that," a third voiced said from the door as Bill Ross walked into the room.  "And I think you have a case for a major law suit against Lionel Luthor."

   They both turned and saw their lawyer with a big smile closing the door as he entered. 

   "We've been over this, Bill," Jonathan sighed.  "Martha and I are not interested in restitution from Lionel.  We just want this whole case to be dropped against us, and leave well enough alone."  He sat in a chair at the table.  "Besides, Lionel never filed the charges against us.  I'm sure that he paid someone off in the police force to do that, and that person will not be so forthcoming."

   "Then I don't understand," Martha sat next to him.  "You don't want to take out a suit against him, which I agree with, but you also want to make sure he is punished?"

   "By the letter of the law, Martha," Jonathan said with burning eyes.  "Lionel will have to answer for what he has done, and I will do what ever is required of me to see that it happens, but I will not lower myself to his level and try and get something out of this."  He turned to his wife and took her hands in his.  "Just because I can forgive Lionel for what he did to us, does not mean I will forget it.  I will tell my story and then let the law do what ever they want with him."

   Martha gave her husband a big hug as Bill Ross shook his head.  "Okay, Jonathan," he agreed reluctantly.  "But I still have to insist that until the charges are dropped against you, that I be with you in that hearing room."

   "Fine," Jonathan agreed.  "If it will make you happy, then I will request your being there, but there won't be much of a law suit once Lex shows his face, again."

   "If he shows up," Bill cautioned.

   "He will, Bill," Martha assured him.  "He's on his way back from Gotham with Clark right now."

   They all sat silently for a few minutes until the door opened again, and Nell Potter came in with her niece Lana Lang at her side.

   "Nell," Martha got up and hugged her.  "I'm so happy to see you up and around again."

   "Thank you, Martha," she returned the hug.  "I guess I can have a life again now that my niece has decided to let me out of the house."

   "I was just looking out for your health," Lana took her turn and hugged Martha.  "I didn't want you going out side and getting hurt.  Beside you sat on the porch everyday with a nice cold drink and a good book."

   "Yes, dear," Nell grinned.  "But even prisoners get to go out in the yard once in a while."

   Jonathan cleared his throat.

  "Oh," Nell gushed.  "I'm sorry.  I wasn't thinking."

   "Don't listen to him," Martha returned her seat with a playfully angry look.  "He's just missing that old wool blanket from his cell."

   "Well, it was warm," Jonathan grinned.

   Martha slapped his arm lightly.

   They all took their seats around the tables and Perry White was the next to enter the room.  He shook hands with everyone and sat next to Bill Ross at Jonathan's left hand.

   "How's your arm doing?" Martha asked.

   "The cast comes off next week," he held it up for all to see.  "I guess this will be my last battle scar from this whole ordeal."

   "Do you have to testify?" Lana asked.

   "That's why I'm here," he smiled across at her.  "I can't prove that Lionel hired that big goon to strong arm me, but I can at least tell them about it and what the guy who saved me said.  He knew Lionel had paid for the beating, but right now all I have is what he told me since no one has idea who he was or where he went."  He took a deep breath.  "Then I have what I know about Dr. Burns and his dealings with Nell's coma.  I can tell how I had a heart to heart with him over the questionable drugs he was using on her and that I think it was that talk that allowed him to let her wake up the next day, but other than the records of the drugs used, I can't really prove that either."

   "What about the paper work?" Jonathan asked.

   "You mean all the forms linking Lionel to the water in Gotham," Perry pointed out.  "Yeah, again I can testify that I received them and what they were, but I am just the messenger in this case.  The documents are the real witnesses here."****

   "I sure what ever any of us has to say will help the grand jury make a case against Lionel," Jonathan added.  "But let me take a minute to thank you, Mr. White, for watching over our kids while we were all being run through the paces by Lionel."

   "I didn't do much, Mr. Kent," Perry grinned.  "All I did was provide them with transportation and the incentive.  These kids ripped this case wide open on their own."

   Pete Ross was let into the room next.  He took a seat next to Nell and greeted the others with handshakes and a smile.

   "Pete," Lana leaned in.  "Are you a witness?"

   "Well, I can't tell them what I learned when I broke into Luthor Corps without getting myself into trouble, but they asked me to be here anyway," he told them.

   "Pete is acting as a character witness for all the distress each of you went through," Bill Ross helped to explain for his son.  "He also can testify what condition Lex was in when he and Jonathan picked Lex and Clark up from the hospital."

   "Too bad we can't tell them how you were attacked in Luthor Corps," Jonathan said with a frown.

   "As much as I would like to see Lionel pay," Pete shrugged.  "I'm not about to admit to a crime just to report one."

   The entrance of Chloe Sullivan and her father Gabe interrupted the conversation and the room went silent.  

    Chloe eyed the room suspiciously and gave a wry smile.  "Nothing warms a heart like the entire room going church mouse on you," she commented.

   "Sorry," Martha spoke up first with a big smile.  "We are just all on pins and needles here with this whole grand jury investigation," she got up and gave her a hug.  "We are just not sure who will walk in next."

   "Well it's just us," Chloe returned the hug.  "We would have been here sooner, but I had to double check some facts on my computer before I was ready to testify."

   "I'm not sure they want us to be keeping notes, Chloe," Jonathan remarked.

   "Maybe not, Mr. Kent," she took a seat next to Pete.  "But I don't have to face a firing squad every day like the judge in there, and I want to make sure that all my 'Ts' are crossed and my 'Is' are dotted.  There is no way I want Lionel Luthor getting off because I left out some important four-one-one."

   "Don't worry, Chloe," Perry smiled from his seat next to Jonathan.  "The case is iron clad against Luthor.  With all the information you provided already and the documents from Edge himself, there is no way out of this noose."

   "This in Lionel Luthor we are talking about," Chloe leaned across the table.  "He has found his way out of more tight spots then a Kennedy at sobriety check point.  If he can prove that he was not aware that they were dumping in the water and not the landfill, then he might have a loop hole if those forms were legal."

   "That was my concern too," Perry agreed with a nod.  "But your friend Clark was able to obtain some very valuable documentation from Lionel's safe on the night he found Lex.  There were stacks of forms and requisitions that clearly make it known that Lionel not only knew of the problematic dumping, but had suggested the process from the very beginning."

   Her face lit up with a bright smile.  "Clark did that?"

   "Clark always seems to be able to pull a rabbit out of mid air," Lana commented.  "He has a special gift for the unexplained."

   Martha shot Jonathan a worried eyed, but made sure no one was looking her way.

   "So," Jonathan broke the silence again.  "Gabe, were you ordered to be here like the rest of us?"

   "As much as I wish I were not," Gabe said with a worried brow.  "Bill and I are here on the charge of tampering with a criminal investigation.  Since Luthor Corps had the cure for the virus that attacked the court's computers, the question of Lionel's tampering with the court files has been brought up."

   "That man has had his hands into a lot of dirty dealings these past few months," Bill added.  "It will be nice to see him finally pay for his crimes after all these years."

   Gab's eyes drifted to the empty table between them as Jonathan took notice.  "You don't seem so eager for justice here, Gabe."

   "I'm sorry, John," he pulled at his tight collar.  "It's not everyday I have to testify against my boss in a federal investigation.  I almost lost my job once this summer, and I would hate to loose it again."

   "I told you Dad," Chloe chimed in.  "You don't work for Lionel anymore, and once Lex returns to the land of the living and reclaims his private holdings, if not Lionel's as well with all his crimes, then he will keep you from taking the flack for this."

   "Don't be so sure, Chloe," Pete said with a scowl.  "If there is any Luthor Corps left after this investigation, it will still be in Lex's hand, and he may not turn out any better than his old man in this mess."

   "Pete," Martha frowned.  "You don't mean that."

   "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent," he let his gaze drift a little.  "I'm glad that Lex is alive and all for Clark's sake, but he's not the most forthright and honest man we know."

   "I'm with my son here, Martha," Bill agreed.  "These Luthors all appear to be harmless and even helpful at first, but eventually they all turn."

   "They have a point, Mrs. Kent," Perry White put in next.  "I've been Luthor watching for a number of years here in Metropolis, and have done some research into the family history, and the whole wolves in sheep clothing act seems to be their MO."

   Martha's eyes were wide with surprise.  "I don't believe this.  Do you all feel this way?"

   "Martha," Jonathan cautioned.  

   "No, Jonathan," she stopped her husband.  "I mean, after all Lex has been through for whatever reason Lionel might have had for doing it, do you all think the same way about Lex?  Do you think he should pay for the sins of his father?"

   "It's not a mater of paying for a crime," Perry spoke up first.  "It's more like we don't believe that the apple has fallen so far from the tree."

   She shook her head in disbelief and turned to Nell.  "What about you, Nell?" She asked.  "Do you have an opinion on this?"

   "Martha," she responded sheepishly.  "Lex is a good kid, but he does have his little quirks."

   The disappointment was very strong on her face as she looked around the table at some of her families closes friends and co-witnesses in the case, and she could not believe how many of them were still against the man who was the largest victim in the crimes.

   "I like Lex," Chloe spoke up in his defense.  "He may not be the most open person, but he has been nice to us."

   "Chloe is right," Lana put in next.  "We've been down this road before, Pete," she turned to him.  "I thought Clark was very convincing in his argument back at the camp ground."

   "Clark means well, Lana," Pete scoffed.  "But he can have some real blinders on when it comes to his friends."

   Martha was about to continue the fight when Jonathan touched her arm lightly.  She knew him well enough after all these years to know that he was telling her to just let it drop for now.  She had wanted to speak up again, but they were all stopped in their tracks when the door opened again, and the same guard who had shown each of them in, was now entering with a sharply dressed Lionel Luthor at his side.

   The looks on the face of the people around the table ran the gambit from total hatred to a soft look of empathy that seemed to almost emanate from Martha's stare.

   "Well," he took a long glanced around the room.  "If it is not my accusers all ready for the kill."

   Jonathan stood up.  "We don't need any moral lectures from you, Luthor," he said with a hiss.  "None of us would be here if you hadn't of tried to impose your own curse on a bunch of innocent people."

   "No one is truly innocent, Jonathan," Lionel smirked as they led him to the next room.  "We all have a few secrets of our own to hide, don't we?"

   Martha reached for Jonathan's hand as he made a fist.

   Once Lionel had slipped into the next room, the guard turned back to them.  "The proceedings will begin once the judge had been seated and the grand jury is in place," he told them with no great concern.  "They will ask to see each of you in turn, at which time you will be sworn in and the questioning will begin before the committee.  We ask that you not share specific information on the line of questioning until after the all the witnesses have been heard."

   They all nodded agreeably as he lifted his clipboard.  "Good," he sighed.  "They will be starting with you, Miss Lang," he looked at Lana.  "Please be prepared to join the judge and the committee within the next five minutes."

   Lana gave a slight tilt of her head as she gave her agreement.  The room was deafeningly silent as they all began to stare at the other person's face.  The time had come, and the hour of truth was at hand.  Each of them gave a silent prayer to their God as they waited for their turn that would surely come all too soon.

   The windows were completely tinted on the limousine as it pulled up in front of the courthouse, and no one gathered around the grounds could peer in to see it's occupants. Inside, Alexander Luthor stared out at the same eyes that were trying to stare in.  He sat without making a sound as Clark sat across from him.

   After a few silent moments, Clark's voice pierced the quiet.  "Lex," he spoke softly.  "We're at the court house."

   "I know," Lex, replied as his eyes danced among the hoards of people outside his window.  His chin was leaning gently on his right hand, and he was shaking with a slight shiver.

   Clark pulled forward to the edge of his seat and leaned across the aisle between them.  "We can take our time with this," he spoke softly to his friend.  "I told the driver not to open the door until we gave him the word."

   Lex's eyes continued to the dance with curious onlookers.  He had wanted to move, to be brave and face the world for the first time in nearly two months, but instead, he sat frozen and unable to move from his seat.

   "Do they know?" He finally blinked as if trying to find his way back to the real world, again.  "Do they know that I am still alive?"

   "They suspect," Clark glanced out at the group.  "We all made a pact not to say anything until we were sure you were ready to come back," he explained with a kind voice.  We didn't want them to start a manhunt for you and risk your health, but some have speculated.  Even Perry White has agreed to keep your return under wraps until you were ready.  But still, some reporters have been speculating and they got wind of a surprise witness being at the hearing, but so far no one has been able to say for sure that it was you."

   "Look at them, Clark," his voice almost cracked.  "They are like a bunch of vultures circling a soon to be a dead carcass.  Only the flesh they want to feast on is my father."

   "Lex," Clark leaned in closer.  "Your father brought this on himself."

   "But I don't have to be the one to deliver the kill, Clark," Lex said with a bit of harshness in his tone.  "My father may have done some horrible things, but he's still my father."

   "You can't stop this, Lex," Clark told him.  "This has to happen now that your father's crimes have been revealed.  There is nothing we can do to stop this trial from happening."

   "You don't understand," Lex looked at him for the first time.  "It's not about what is right and wrong, or what he has done or hasn't done.  It's about my father, Clark."

   "I know," Clark shook his head.  "It's hard for anyone to see a family member go through something like this, but it has to be done."

   "They're going to convict him, Clark," Lex began to shake even more.  "They are going to send him to jail for the heinous crimes he committed against Gotham, but he won't survive in there.  He'll never be able to live in that environment for very long."

   "Come on, Lex," Clark tried to dissuade him.  "Your Dad is a very strong man.  He'll be able to deal with it."

   "No, he won't," Lex snapped.  "It will kill him.  My father is as good as dead if he goes to jail."

   Clark looked deep into Lex's eyes.  There was so much more behind those blue orbs then he would ever understand, but at that moment, he knew that there was something far deeper behind the fear for his father's health.

   "What are you telling me, Lex?" Clark finally asked.

   "He'll die, Clark," Lex's eyes were glazed over with a mist.  "Then he will be gone, and I will be the only one left," his gaze drifted to the floor.  "I don't think I can be that completely alone, Clark."

   Clark reached across and touched his hand that sat on his lap.

   Lana came out of the interrogation room holding a tissue to her eyes as she resumed her seat between Nell and Martha.  She kept her head low and eye contact was minimal to none.  She sat silently as Martha placed her hand over Lana's.

   "Nell Potter," the bailiff called out from his stance at the door.

   Taking a deep breath, Nell rose slowly and patted Lana on the shoulder.  The two women did not say a word, but they shared a bond at that moment that was beyond words, and Nell knew that she was about to enter the lion's den.

   When Nell and the Bailiff had disappeared, Chloe leaned across the table and was unable to contain her peaked interest any longer. She had to know, "What happened in there?"

   Lana glanced up with red eyes.  She gave a hazardous stare at the others in the room.

   "Come on," Chloe coached.  "We will all be dragged in there sooner or later, it will help prepare us if we know what we are in for."

   "Lana is sworn not to discuss the case with anyone," Bill Ross spoke up.  "She would be in contempt if she told anyone what the questions were about."

   "I don't want details," Chloe shot him a frown.  "I just want a 'heads up.'"

   Again Lana wiped away a tear as she sniffed.  "It was horrible, Chloe," she finally spoke up.  "They claim that everything I know about this case and Lex's accident is pure hear-say, and even the car with the cut break lines was something I saw after the fact, and they said I had no way of proving what I saw."

   "They have us there," Perry added in.  "I looked into it while you kids were gone, and Lionel had the car destroyed, as we suspected he would. Only the police report on the accident remains, and it says nothing about the brakes."

   "I don't understand," Jonathan asked.  "The brakes will prove that Morgan Edge tried to kill Lex.  Why would Lionel have his lawyers put that in question?"

   "Two reasons," Bill told him with a worried look.  "The first is he's trying to cover as much about Lex's accident as he can so he can make up matters as they go along, and as long as no one can say what really happened, the chances of proving a conspiracy on Lionel's part is less possible."

   "And the second reason?" Martha asked. 

   "If he can hide Morgan's desire for restitution," Bill continued.  "Then his crime against Gotham City will seem less severe, and he could also try to find a way to turn that whole story around."

   "But they have tons of proof that he turned GC into a regular Rocky Picture Horror Show," Pete spoke up with disgust.  "How can he get away from something like that?"

   "People have been blaming Lionel for a lot of the strange happenings in Smallville for years," Chloe reminded them.  "And he has been able to keep himself out of the fodder fire all this time."

   "Yeah, but this is the perfect case scenario," Pete said with a strong sense of frustration.  "People have debating the 'Wall Of Weird' as being either caused by Luthor or the Meteor fragments, and now we have the mix of both.  There's no way he can pass this off on someone else."

   "I've dealt with people like the Luthors and Lionel himself for years, son," Bill said calmly.  "His type has a knack for getting out of tight situations like this."

   A look of rage came across Pete's face.  "What are you saying?" he spat.  "You think Lionel will be able to walk away from this?"

   "Not if we have anything to say about it, Pete," Jonathan leaned forward.  "That's why we are all here: to make as strong a case against Lionel as we can possibly make it. We can't allow our emotions to flare up right now and risk messing up this whole trial."

   Martha could not help but flinch at his strong resolve.  He was so determined to make Lionel pay for his crimes even while faking forgiveness, but she knew this man well enough to know that the fuse within his soul had been lit, and nothing short of full destruction was going ease the breaking point.

   Across the table, Gabe Sullivan sat silently next to his daughter, wringing his hands with worry.

   Pete rubbed his face with anger.  "Okay," he grunted.  "What about the attack on Mr. White and the drugs he was giving Nell?"

   All eyes turned to Perry who sat with a less than confident demeanor.  "I," he started slowly.  "I am not sure I can prove the attack was from Lionel," he told them with a defeated sigh.  "The only proof I have that my attacker was hired by Luthor were his less than incriminating hints of his employer, and the word of a hired hit man who saved my life because I assumed he was working for Edge, and then he disappeared never to be seen again."

   "But the drugs," Pete seemed to be almost pleading the case.

   "All given by Phil Burns," Perry explained.  "We know he was hired by Lionel to look after Nell, but they have a long history, and there were no clear indications on any of his records or in any known recorded or documented proof that Lionel was telling him how to handle the case.  Even with my speculations and confrontations with Burns, he never confirmed that he was acting on Lionel's orders.  All I can tell the jury is that I confronted him, and the next day Nell woke up.  The drugs were questionable and some were from Luthor Labs, but unless we have prove that Lionel gave him those drugs with the desire to use on Nell, we don't have much more than speculation."

   "The only person who could prove anything from that end took his own life," Bill added.  "When Doctor Burns killed himself, all proof of his true involvement with Lionel was null and void."

   "If he really did kill himself," Pete said under his breath.

   They all gave him a careful glance as the door opened again.  "Mr. Pete Ross," the bailiff read from his clipboard.  "You are next."

   All eyes turned to the door when they heard Nell's crying voice screaming from across the larger room.  "I told you I don't remember!" She screeched.  "All I can tell you is that Lionel did something to me, but I can't remember what."

   The bailiff closed the door quickly as he ushered Pete into the meeting hall with him.  

   Lana fell into Martha's waiting arms and sobbed as she thought about what they must have been putting her aunt through to shake her up so badly.

   Clark waited for a long time before he spoke up again from his seated place in the back of the rented limousine that Alfred had called ahead to reserve for them.

   "Lex," he said softly.  "We've been sitting here for a while, and they are going ask the driver to move the car any minute now.  We can't put this off any longer.  We need to get in the building before any more reporters suspect you are here and they block our path."

   "I can't do this, Clark," Lex shook his head vigorously.  "I'm not strong enough to face those reporters and all the questions from them and the court."

   "Are you crazy?" Clark slipped onto the seat next to him. "Lex," he pulled his shoulders so they were face to face.  "You are the strongest person I know.  I have never known anyone who has been able to stand up to all the trials and troubles you have been through in your life with or without the advantage of wealth. You are a giant of self-assuredness, Lex."

   "I'm not," Lex, continued to shake his head not wanting to meet Clark's gaze.  

   "Lex," Clark clasped his hands around Lex's head to keep it from turning away and he stared fiercely into his friend's eyes.  "Lex, you have just returned from the point of total breakdown that few have ever been able to find their way back from, and you have made yourself whole again. You can face anything."

   Lex stared into Clark's deep green eyes.  They were filled with so much hope and promise for him.  They held dreams and desires that Lex had given up on years ago, and yet they still burned a hole in his gut.  This was what called him back from the brink of oblivion a few weeks ago, and those same strong green eyes that forced him to face this day, had also given him the strength to face the world he had thought taken from him after all those days at his father's mercy.

   Lex backed away from Clark's grasp and closed his eyes tightly.  Clark had thought to say something, but he kept his words silent as it occurred to him that Lex was not shying away, but instead was calling on all his reserves within his soul to bring out that man he was and the person he was meant to be.  He took several deep breaths and opened his eyes again with a new determined stance.  It was a show for the public and the court, but Clark knew that this was enough for now.  He would gather up the Luthor he could present on the surface and get through this day, and eventually he would return to the Lex Luthor he was.  For now, the show was enough.

   Clark tapped on the divider panel between the rear compartment and the driver's seat to indicate that they were ready to get out and he should open the door.

   Clark slipped past Lex and squatted before the door as he waited for it to be opened.

   Lex reached up and grasped his upper arm firmly as his hands shook.  Clark turned with a soft look in his eyes to see his silent friend staring strongly at him.  He placed his own hand over Lex's and gave a gentle smile.  "Don't worry, Lex," he whispered as the door began to open.  "I'm not going to leave your side."

   The afternoon sun over Metropolis shone brightly in the sky and Clark squinted his eyes as he stepped out of the dark car.  He buttoned his jacket as people began to see and recognize who he was, and the crowd around the limousine grew with each reporter and spectator wanting to get a view of the latest witness in the Luthor trial.  Each voice was trying to be heard over the next, and commotion was become almost deafening when Clark turned back to the car and leaned in.

   The frightened look of 'small boy' eyes from Alexander Luthor looked up at him, and Clark gave him one last secret smile to help with that last boost of confidence.  Clark reached around and grasped his forearm and helped him slowly to his feet as Lex hung one foot out of the back seat.

   Time seemed to stand still as Clark and Lex made a point to focus on each other, and not the hundreds of prying eyes that stood around them with flashing cameras and bright video taping lights.

   The second foot was dangled out of the car as Lex slid to the edge of the seat while Clark stood before the dark door blocking the view of everyone who was in the area.  He reached his other hand in and grasped Lex's free arm pulling him gently to his feet as his healing injuries still made it hard for Lex to move freely.

   Then a torso and a bent head exited the vehicle and ever so slowly, Clark lifted his friend to his full six foot one height into the sunlight.  Clark still blocked most of the view, but those who stood to the sides with a view of the man who had just climbed out began to gasp and cover their mouths with shock and surprise.  Clark pulled Lex close to make sure that he was strong enough to stand on his own.

   Glancing down, Clark took a last look at Lex, who's eyes were entranced in Clark's chin as not to see the hoards of people who now surrounded them.  Taking a deep breath, Clark released Lex's arms and slid his right arm around his shoulder and stepped to the side turning to the people who were all becoming eerily silent.

   Time seemed to kick back into gear as Lex lifted his sight to take in the faces of the onlookers and all of their shocked and surprised expressions.  His heart was beating a mile a minute, and his knees were becoming weak, but he could feel Clark's strong arm around his shoulder, and he knew that his true and faithful friend would not let him down now, just as he knew he never would.  Lex was pretending to be strong and brave and even at his weakest hour he knew that he would never be able to tell this stone pillar of teenager who stood at his side that the strength he projected was not his own, but the life force he felt from this young man of determined resolve.

   After a few seconds, the shock seemed to subside, and the noise level returned at an even higher decibel as what now seemed to be thousands of people gathered around them.  Each one had their own line of questions and desire to get a piece of the two young men.  Clark was about to push Lex back into the car when he saw a group of uniformed officers approaching them, and they began to clear a path for them until a three-foot wide path was made through the crowd.

   Taking another deep breath, Lex tucked his shaking hands into his pockets and summoned up all his inner strength and gently pulled himself away from Clark's grasp.  He stood before the festering group, and raised his chin high.  With a determination that Clark had not seen in his best friend in weeks, Lex took his first step forward and pierced the opening through the crowd and walked towards the courthouse with a smiling Clark trailing behind.

   The entire trail through the crowd and into the court building had been the same as Clark and Lex endured the loud murmurs and questionable stares from the people who lined their path.  After a few minutes, they were led to the same room where the others sat around the table waiting.

   Lex eyed the room of his self-professed friends and supporters, but chose not to say a word.  He nodded his head once with a slight smile and then took a seat close to the entrance door on one of the wooden chairs against the wall.

   Jonathan and Martha met Clark at mid point of their walk towards each other, and Martha hugged her son.  "I was beginning to worry," she said softly.  "Is everything all right?"

   "Sure," Clark pulled away from his returned hug.  "We're just dealing with some issues of going into public again."

   "Clark," Jonathan touched his son's arm.  "Please remember what we told you, son.  Don't let Lex pull you any deeper into this Luthor turmoil than you already are.  Once we testify, what ever happens to Lex is the Luthor's problem."

    Clark peeked back over his shoulder where Chloe and Lana had taken the seats flanking Lex.  He turned back to his father giving him a cautious but determined stare.  "I know you don't like it, Dad, but I will be there for as long as Lex needs me.  Even if this is over for the rest of us today, Lex still has a lot of healing to do, and I won't abandon him just to save myself."

   "We know that," Martha returned quickly trying to keep the peace.  "All your father and I are saying is to be careful."

   "I will," he agreed.

   Chloe was the first to smile brightly at Lex as she sat to his right.  "Welcome back to the real world, Mister Luthor," she grinned.  "I want you to know that you were sorely missed."

   He gave her a polite smile in return.

   "That's right, Lex," Lana added taking his left hand.  "We were all upset when we thought you were gone.  Even after we knew you were back, we just missed you."

   "Thanks," Lex nodded his head.

   "So," Chloe leaned forward trying to ignore the deliberate distance in his demeanor.  "When do I get my exclusive interview with the infamous Alexander Luthor, now that he's back among the living?"

   "I'm sorry, Chloe," He fumbled over his words as he shifted uneasily in his chair.  "I'm just not ready to talk about it just yet."

   "Oh, okay," she pretended not to care, but was deeply put off by his in affection.  "I guess when you are feeling up to it, then maybe you can give me a few sound bytes."

   "Sure," His eyes darted around the room as he tried not to make eye contact with anyone.  "Just give me a few days."

   Clark made his way back over to Lex with a small Dixie cup of water he got from the cooler in the far corner of the room.  "Here," he handed his friend the cup.  "I thought you might be needing this."

   Lex reached for the cup with both hands, making sure he wrapped Clark's hand within his own.  He looked into his eyes with tired and blood shot eyes of his own.  Clark had never seen Lex so venerable and needy as he was at that moment, and he made no secret of the fact that he was relying on Clark's strength to get him through this ordeal.

   Chloe and Lana cold tell that these two were clearly in a place all their own at the moment, and neither of them would be able to enter for a very long time to come.  So with out saying a word, they both got up and walked back to their seats, and Clark slipped silently into Chloe's abandoned chair and watched Lex sip on the water.

   Martha could feel her husband tense up as she held tightly to his arm.  She leaned closely to his ear as she steered him back to their seats.  "Let this one go, Jonathan."

   "He's going to destroy Clark with him," Jonathan grumbled under his breath.

   "If we fight this," she warned.  "It will only make Clark cling even tighter to him than he already is.  Clark is strong, and he will know when to pull back and let Lex walk on his own again."

   Once the Kents were seated again, the door opened and out stepped a clearly shaken Pete Ross.  They could all tell that his line of questioning did not go well.  He slipped aside and stood next to the door with his nostrils blaring.

   "Perry White," the bailiff called from the next room as Perry stood to his feet.  He climbed back into his sport jacket and walked towards the door.  Once the room had been sealed off again, Chloe jumped up and stood by Pete's side.

   "What happened, Pete?" She questioned his angry look.

   "This is not a hearing or a trial of any kind," he said with burning eyes.  "It's a lynch mob in there, and we are the ones they are trying to hang out to dry."

   "Calm down, son," Bill Ross stood up and walked over to his son.  "I am sure that I have told you enough about my work over the years to know that these things don't always go the way you want them to."

   "Losing a case is one thing, Dad," Pete returned.  "But that district attorney must be in Lionel's back pocket in there.  He's a complete idiot and it's the defense team that is running the show."

   "I am sure that the judge wouldn't let the trial get too one-sided," Bill insisted.

   "That guy made the OJ judge look like Matlock," Pete sighed with a huff.  "He is letting Lionel's people call all the shots."

   "I wouldn't worry, Pete," Jonathan spoke up.  "This case is national headline news.  I'm sure that the people in Gotham are not going to let Lionel live this down so easy.  There is no getting out of something this big, even for Lionel."

   Pete tried to calm himself when he peeked up and saw Lex sitting silently in the corner.  His eyes began to burn red again and his nostril flared.  Chloe placed a gentle hand on his chest.  "Don't," she said softly as if she could read his thoughts.

   Taking her hand into his, he gently pulled her hand away and dropped it at her side as he stepped forward.  He made a direct line across the room to where Lex and Clark sat silently listening.

   Instinctively Clark rose to his feet and stepped between the two men and created a barrier so Pete could not get closer than the three feet he would allow.  "I won't hurt him, Clark," Pete yelled up at his friends face.  "I just have a few questions for our friend."

   "Don't, Pete," Clark held him back trying not to show too much strength on his part.

   "I need to know, Clark," Pete looked around his friend and glared at Lex.  "Is this how Luthor's do things Lex?" he grunted.  "Do you always commit acts boarder lining on genocide and then buy off the legal system?"

   Lex glanced up at him with tired eyes.

   "Say something," Pete called out even louder.  "Do you Luthors think that you are gods?  Do you think you can do what ever you want no matter how many people get hurt because you know you can always write yourself a check to get out of trouble?"

   "Stop it, Pete," Clark warned still holding him back as Chloe and Bill Ross came to his aid and tried to pull Pete back.

   "You walk all over people and never give it another thought," Pete screamed.  "You poison millions of innocent people and steal, God only knows how many more, lively hood, and you don't even lose a moment's sleep over it.  Do you?'

   Pete," Clark had had enough and wrapped his arms around him forcefully into a bear hug while he picked him up and carried him back, deeper into the room.  "That's enough, Pete."

   Pete was surprised that Clark could possess that much strength and marveled at how easily he was man handled.  When Clark dropped him in the far corner near the cooler, Pete was speechless as he watched Clark's eyes shy away from his showing emotion.

   "Pete," Clark placed a tender hand on his shoulder while still not making eye contact.  "Lex is not the enemy here.  He's as much a victim, if not more so than anyone else in this room."

   Finally Pete relaxed his stance and allowed his gaze to drift to the floor.  "I'm sorry, man.  I just let myself get worked up in there."

   "I know," Clark gave him a gentle smile.  "We're all running a little stoked right now."

   Pete gave his friend a less than happy smile.

   Chloe turned her attention back to Lex who had remained silent through the ordeal.  He sat with his stare towards the opposite wall as a slight, but cold, sweat ran down his face.  She wanted to say something, but instead chose to return to her seat as Bill Ross did the same.

   Gab Sullivan placed his arm around his daughter as she sat silently.

   The room had remained silent for the next half hour as everyone returned to their seats and Clark claimed his guard post next to Lex.  The sound of the door to the hearing room seemed to echo when it was opened again, and Perry White, who seemed haggard and tired, reappeared.

   "Bill Ross and Gab Sullivan," the bailiff called.  "The judge would like to hear you testify together on the obstructions charges, so if you will follow me."

   Chloe patted Gab's hand and gave him a reassuring smile as he got up out of his seat and followed.  

   Bill patted Pete's shoulder as he walked past his son.

   All eyes turned to Perry White as he returned to his seat, and the others disappeared behind the door.

   "What happened in there?" Jonathan spoke first.

   "Well, they asked me a whole bucket full of questions about how I got hold of all the documentation, and then they tried to sway my belief of their authenticity and relevance to making a case against Lionel."

   "And," Martha coaxed.

   "I think I made a believable argument for the proof on this end, but it is up to Chloe to bring it home and tell how they came about and why Morgan Edge collected them in the first place."

   Chloe sighed deeply.  "I just hope I don't let everyone down," she commented.  "I just wish the police had been able to locate Salina to back up my story."

   "She told you that she didn't want to be found," Lana reminded.  "I guess she had enough resources to help that happen after all."

   "What about the hired thug Lionel sent after you?"  Martha asked next.  "Can they prove that against Lionel?"

   "I'm afraid not, Mrs. Kent," Perry returned with sorry face.  "Without my witness and any real proof since the guy never named Lionel himself, I have nothing but speculation to go on."

   "Chock another vote up for Lionel," Pete grunted from where he was leaning crossed armed over the table.  

   They all gave him a once over, but no one really wanted to say anything to him.

   "Lionel is just batting all these charges out of the ball park," Chloe commented when they had all settled in again.  "One by one he is beating the rap against him."

   "And with no direct involvement on our false arrest charges along with his public statement of not wanted to pursue us personally, I'm sure our charges will be dismissed as well," Jonathan grunted.

   "They have already said that since we don't know whom the gunman in Gotham was working for when he attacked us," Lana added in.  "We don't have a case against Lionel on that front either."

   "I hate to put any pressure on you," Jonathan leaned back in his chair.  "But it looks like it's up to you, Chloe, to bring in a conviction against Lionel."  He paused for a moment and then looked over at Lex.  "You and Lex are the only two still standing to prove that Lionel did any wrong doing."

   Lex looked up for the first time in several minutes as he heard Jonathan's words, and they sent a cold shiver down his spine.

   When Bill Ross and Gabe Sullivan returned from the questioning room, their faces didn't look any brighter than the ones before them.  As Martha and Jonathan was called in to take their turn on the witness stand, the two men returned to their seats and remained silent.

   "That bad, huh?" Pete questioned his father.

   "The tech crew was unable to trace the source of the virus," he told them with a defeated voice.  "So there is no way to prove that the virus came from Luthor Corps or it's people."

   "Without the source," Gab spoke up.  "The court computer files and Luthor Corps plant number three are just two random hits with a virus."

   Pete pounded the table with his fist much to all of their surprise.  "He's going to get away with everything," he grunted through gritted teeth.  "Lionel is going to get away with this."

   "No, he's not," a voice that had been silent until then spoke up.  They all turned and saw that Lex Luthor had decided to join the conversation from his seated position in the corner.

   "Lex?" Clark questioned.

   "You all have to tell your stories and at least place doubt in the mind of those jurist in there," he said with an anguish expression on his face.  "He may not stand trial for those crimes, but it may make the jury think twice before they let him get off for what he did to Gotham City."

   They all sat quiet for a moment until Chloe spoke up.  "Lex is right," she grinned through her fear.  "So what if he has been able to shake off all these charges.  The most important and potentially damaging one is still standing."

   "And it's up to you, Chloe," Lex looked up at her.  "You have to bat a home run for our team and get my father convicted for his crimes."

   Chloe had to turn away as the enormity of the whole trial began to weigh heavy on her shoulder.

   Lex rose slowly with a little help from Clark and walked over to her side.  Perry White got up and allowed him to sit in his seat as Lex grasped Chloe's hand into his own.  "You can do it, Chloe," he spoke softly into her ear.

   "I'm glad one of us thinks so," she joked off.  "I mean I never had to be the smoking gun in a trial before.  It's a lot of pressure."

   "And you can handle it," Lex said reaching for her chin and raising her eyes to meet his.  "Clark told me what happened to Morgan Edge's son, and I am sure it had to send him to the breaking point for him to go after my father like he did.  I know that I was nothing but a pawn in this story, but I would like to think that the Edge baby could be a little more.  He is the one who can finally put an end to my father's reign of terror."

   A tear rolled down Chloe's face as she looked into his weary eyes.  They use to be so filled with life and it's endless possibilities, but now all she saw was the remaining signs of the torture he must have had to endure at his own father's hand.  The rings were black beneath his baby blues, and there was a tired stance beyond any she had ever seen in anyone else's before.  The whites of his eyes were almost hidden behind the blood shoot veins that surrounded this slightly unequal pupils and in the corner of his left one, was a small bed of red that looked like a vessel had burst and his heavy eyeball was swimming in the blood.

   "I'll do it," she said as she sat up straight.  "I'll go in there in and tell my story, and I'll make them believe the truth."

   Lex gave her one of his rear gentle smiles and he kissed her forehead.

   The room was again silent when Martha and Jonathan walked back into the room about two minutes later.  They all looked up and were surprised by their early return.

   "What happen?" Clark walked across the room from his seat next to Lex.  "Did they hear your whole story already?"

   "Most of it," Jonathan said with a confused look in his eye.

   "What do you mean, 'most of it'?" Clark asked.

   "The District Attorney had just finished piecing our story together and the defense attorneys were getting ready to cross examine us," Jonathan continued.  "I could tell from the look on his face that he was about to tell us what we already knew about not having a real legal leg to stand on when someone was let into the room from the other door."

   "Someone?" Clark repeated with a worried look.

   "He was an official looking man with a uniform," Martha explained.  "Air force, your father thinks."

   "He had a large yellow envelope," Jonathan said now making a point to speak to the whole room.  "It was marked confidential and he said it was for the DA and the judge to read at once."

   "This doesn't sound good," Bill Ross sighed.  "I knew I should have been in there."

   "The DA read it and then the judge," Martha continued for them.  "He then called a side bar with the defense attorneys as well."

   Jonathan shifted his weight nervously as he placed his hands in his pockets.  "It only took a minute for the judge to order the jury out of the room, and he told us he needed five minutes to review the new facts in the trial and to confirm their authenticity." 

   "What new facts can there be?" Perry questioned out loud.  "They have all the proof they need to convict Lionel with all the documents that were provided from Edge and Lionel's own safe."

   "I hate to say it," Bill was the next to speak as they all returned to their seats.  "It sounds like Lionel may have found his ace in the hole on this matter."

   "That can't be," Martha said with disbelief.  "No one could possibly help Lionel out of this."

   Bill looked across the table at her.  "If it was delivered by the Air Force, Martha, then who ever sent that package has a lot of pull with the government."

   She knew that he was right, and it had confirmed her fears.

   "He's going to get away with it," Pete grunted once again under his breath.  "He's going to walk away from this."

   "Not necessarily," Chloe said with a defiant ring to her voice.  They all looked up at her and followed her stare across the room to where Lex was seated with his head down.  He was breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath.

   The bailiff entered the room about seventeen minutes later.  "The judge would like everyone to come into the hearing room to hear the latest developments on this case," he announced.

   They had all already known what was about to happen as they were all led into the room and seated in the rows of seats behind the lawyer's tables just as they entered the room.  Martha and Jonathan sat at the far end of the first row and Clark eased in next to them while keeping Lex close to his side.  Chloe and then Gab rounded out that row while Perry, Lana, Nell, Bill, and Pete Ross took the second set of seats.

   They all rose as the elder judge entered the chambers and then they were all told to be seated.  The lawyers began to sort through some papers as Lionel took a moment to glance back from his table surrounded by a set of six defenders, and took a long look at his son.

   Lex was able to put on his brave face and stared straight at the judge, never once allowing his eyes to stray, or his sight to drift over towards his father.

   A small smile came across Lionel's face as he watched Lex who seemed to be recovering nicely.  After a few seconds, his attention was called back to the judge when he slammed his gavel down on the desk.

   Looking over at the empty jury box, it had escaped no one attention that they had not been asked to return, and the trial was about to resume with out them.

    The judge removed his reading glasses and glanced over at Lionel's table.  "Will the defendant please rise for the following reading?"

   Lionel and his six lawyers all rose to their feet at the same time.

   The judge took a deep breath reading over the pages before him one finally time and then spoke again.  "Mr. Luthor, I have before me a executive order from the United States Capital Building on behalf of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in conjunction with the Congress and the White House ordering that this trial Cease and Desist at once."   The room began to murmur slightly as gasp and sighs could be heard over the judge's voice.  Clark turned his head to look at Lex who seemed to be trying to holding it all in, but his eyes were twitching as he fought to hold down his emotions.

   The judge looked up as if to warn them to remain silent, and then he continued.  "These orders have come from very high up, did they not Mr. Luthor?'

   "Yes, your honor," Lionel agreed with a tilt of his head.

   "So high in fact that the form is stamped with the Presidential Seal," the judge stated with a scowl.  "What I would like to know sir, is how on Earth were you able to get a government sanctioned pardon while we have been preparing your trial?  What are your true connections and how is the Joint Chief of Staff connected?"

   Again the court began to buss slightly.

   "What were you doing in Gotham, Mr. Luthor?" The judge asked.

   "I am sorry your honor," Lionel smirked.  "I could tell you, but as you can see from those highly placed order, then I would have to kill you," he said with a small chuckle.

   The judge gave him a nasty look.  "According to this document, I am unable to ask you any further details on this matter, but I must warn you Mr. Luthor.  Should the word get out that you are playing with an entire cities drinking water supply, then you are opening yourself up to an enormously large civil suit from the city of Gotham and it would also entail a suit against the government of this country since you seem to have drawn them into the fray."

   "I am well aware of that sir," Lionel smirked.  "But as you have already determined, I was acting in agreement with my country, and I am afraid that no more can be said."

   Jonathan had wanted to jump up and attack the smug man, who stood before him, but Martha held both of his hands tightly, and it was her sheer willpower that kept him from leaping at Lionel's throat.

   The judge took another deep breath and sighed heavily.  "I am afraid that I have no other choice in this matter but to call this trial adjourned and to close this case."

   Gab wrapped his arms around his daughter as the judge slammed down his gavel.  The pressure was no longer weighing heavily on her, but it also was not relieved having never reached its closure.  She leaned into her father's shoulder and cried.  "It was all for nothing.  All the poor people who have suffered for this, and it's all for nothing."

   Gab tried to comfort his daughter as he held her head while she cried.

   The judge slammed his gavel down as they all were talking among themselves.  "There is still one order of business to attend to," he announced as a hushed gathered over them.  "There is the matter of the kidnapping charges and faking of Mr. Luthor's son's death."

   "Your honor," one of Lionel's defense attorneys spoke up.  "With all do respect, you have been ordered not to try any cases in connection with this matter any further."

   "The injunction states that the state can not pursue these matters of poisoning the drinking water, young man," he said back.  "However the matter now lies with any insurance companies that may have been defrauded and with young Mister Luthor himself."

   "You honor?" Lionel gave a puzzled look.

   "It is my indication by reading all the transcripts and depositions that Alexander Luthor was being held against his will, and therefore he is entitled to file kidnapping charges against his father should he see fit."

   Again all eyes were on the silent Lex as the defense layer turned back.  "First off your honor," he started with a rushed demeanor.  "If you will review the transcripts, you will find that no insurance claims were filed nor was their even a legal death certificate issued; only a notification of death given by the late Doctor Burns who never followed through on the issue.  As for the personal property, Mr. Lionel Luthor never acquired Mr. Alexander Luthor's assets due to the fact that he would have needed a death certificate to do so.  He only took temporary control acting as executive of Alexander's estate."  He took a deep breath.  "So as you can see, sir, no laws were broken in this matter."

   The judge seemed to be angered by his statement.  "I see," he grumped.  "You have covered all the bases on this one, haven't you?"

   "Your honor," the lawyer gave a slight grin.  "No laws were broken.  There is no trial for you to preside over."

   "Let's not jump to conclusions," the judge grinned back.  "As I said, there is still one accuser left to speak."

   The room became silent again, and they all watched as Lex leaned forward over his own knees struggling to regain his composure through short and shallow breaths.  Clark hovered over him and wrapped his left arm over his friend.

   "Lex, it's okay," he whispered into his ear.  "You can do this, I'm here for you buddy."

   "I can't do this, Clark," Lex whispered back.  "I can't do this and he knows it."

    "That's okay," Clark tried to assure him.  "You don't have to do anything you are not ready for.  Tell the judge you need a few days to think about it."

   "You don't understand," Lex grabbed Clark's other wrist from inside of their small huddle.  "I'm weak and he knows it.  I've always been weak, and he has always played on that fact.  Every time I retaliate, it blows up in my face."

   "Not this time, Lex," Clark assured him.  "This time you are in the right, and the law is on your side.  And you don't have to be afraid of Lionel," Clark showed a small smile.  "I'll protect you."

   Lex stopped from his shaking for a moment and looked directly at Clark's eyes.  "And you would, wouldn't you.  Even if it meant giving up your life for mine."

   "That's what friends do, Lex," Clark said softly.  

   "Mr. Alexander Luthor," the judge called.  "Will you please rise and approach the bench."

   Lex looked up from his seated position as he sat up straight again.  Clark removed his arm and allowed Lex to rise to his feet unaided.  He knew that he would not want Lionel see that he needed anyone's help, so Clark allowed him to act on his own.  Chloe and Gabe moved their legs aside as Lex slipped by them into the aisle.  His movement was slow and deliberate, but Lex was determined not to let his father see how difficult this was for him both in body and in mind.

   He walked past his father and never glanced in his direction, but he could feel his father's constant stare on him.  Lex moved with a slight limp that was becoming progressively worse as the day, and his stress level, went on but still he slowly made his way to the judge's desk at a total of about fifteen feet and he stood looking up as if he were a small child waiting for punishment from his parent. 

   "Mr. Luthor," the judge showed a warm sympathetic look for the first time since they had all been called into the room.  It was meant to be gentle and inviting, but Lex resented it because he knew that the judge now thought he was weak and needed the coddling of the court.  "Mr. Luthor, at this time, I must informed you of your legal rights in filing a formal complaint against your father for the unlawful and unwarranted abduction of yourself from Metropolis General Hospital when you were suffering the effects of your accident."

   "I am aware of my rights, your honor," Lex said with words that sounded more like an insistence than the 'thank you' he had wanted it to sound like.

   "Well then," the judge was taken back a little bit.  "Is it true as stated in these other reports that you were taken from the hospital and held against your will by your father with the use of various unknown drugs while he continued to allow the world to believe that you were dead?"

   Behind him, a room full of people who knew what he had gone through waited with bated breath for Lex's reply.  Each allowed their minds to drift a slight bit as Lex lowered his head in thought.

   Pete was still angry with Lionel's apparent ease at getting out of the noose they had tried so hard to tie tightly, while his father Bill Ross could not help but wonder what type of connection Lionel must have had with the United States Government to get away with what his son had declared to be genocide.

   Perry White wished he had been allowed to bring in his notebook to record the events as they unfolded.  He tried desperately to make mental notes of all he heard, and he wondered what he would truly be allowed to write about the government involvement once they had been released from this room.

   Lex took a deep cleansing breath as he tried to collect his thoughts and just say the simple words, 'yes your honor.'

   Nell Potter sat silently watching as she remembered how she once thought of Lionel as a good friend, but she knew now that all of that was gone, while Lana Lang tried to send as much positive energy she could to Lex as he stood shaking before the judge.  She also tried to fathom how she could be so worried about how this was affecting Clark at the same time.  "Bruce," she thought.  "If Bruce were here, he would know what to do."

   Chloe Sullivan's hands were shaking almost as much as Lex's as she thought how deeply these events must have been ripping away at his already questionable inner soul.  She wanted to jump up and wrap her arms around this seeming gentle man/child as he struggled with his very self.  Then there was Clark.  She glanced side way down two seats and could see that he was very upset and worried for Lex, and he was practically holding himself to the seat to keep from jumping up to his defense.  She felt a welt of pain in the pit of her stomach for him as he was forced to watch helplessly.  She reached across the seat and placed her hand over his gently.

   Gabe Sullivan watched as his boss stood there like a small child before the room of people who should know him, but had little to no idea about who this man really was.

   Clark Kent felt little comfort in Chloe's hand, but he took it willingly into his and held firmly to his friend's strength while he in turn hoped that Lex would hold firm onto his.  Martha Kent took Clark's other hand into hers and she held it with both fist on her lap.  She could feel her little boy shaking, and she could see his lips were moving in a silent prayer for his friend.  She joined in with his conversation to God as a tear rolled down her face.

   Jonathan glanced over at his wife and son, and he wished to God that he could feel the compassion for Lex that they both felt, but in his not-so-deep insides he hoped that the two Luthors would just destroy each other and leave his family alone.

   "Mr. Luthor," the judge spoke up again.  "Are these things I have stated true?  Were you kidnapped by your father and held against your will?"

   Lex Luthor raised his head slowly, and he seemed to be standing a slight bit taller as he looked up at the judge and declared, "Yes, your honor.  I was held prisoner by my father and drugged to keep me under his control."

   His confession broke the cloud of silence in the room and Lionel's defense team began to speak quietly among themselves.  Even the bailiffs and stenographer seemed shocked by his admission, but still they continued to do their jobs and watch on.

   A slight smile came to Judge Stone's lips as he realized that he might have a case against the elder Luthor after all.  He cleared his throat and wrote a few notes on the pad before him.  "I see," he returned with a serious tone.  "Then, by the earlier admission of Miss Potter and if Mister Clark Kent holds to his deposition, we should have enough proof to make a case against your father."

   Lex let his gaze drift away from the judge and he stared down at his hands.

   "There is only one official matter to deal with before we can send this matter through the legal process to set a court hearing," Stone spoke as he wrote more notes.  "At this time I must ask you if you wish to file official charges against your father, and we can begin the documentation at once."

   Lex froze midpoint of opening his mouth, and he looked up at the large court bench that stood before him.  He wanted to talk and say that they needed to throw everything they had at Lionel to make him pay for his evil acts, but he found himself without a voice and a clear thought.  Had he not been cleared from the drugs weeks ago, he would have sworn that he were still under their control, but Lex knew enough that his reaction was from no drug in his blood stream, but from a sudden urge of dread that seemed to take him over from head to foot.

   Clark jumped to his feet ready to do something to help, but when Martha pulled at his arm, he too realized that there was nothing he could do for Lex now.  This was a matter that he had to deal with on his own.  Lex needed to be able to handle his father in his own way and in his own time if he were ever going to be able to be his own man again.

   "Come on, Lex," Pete said low and under his breathed.  "Don't blow your chance to nail the old guy."

   Even Bill Ross with his own hatred for the Luthor name was surprised at his son's reaction with the case.  He had learn to let go of his rage over what the Luthors had essentially robbed from the Ross' a long time ago, but he had never thought of what all those years of built up hate and rage was doing to his son.  He knew when they got home the two Ross men would have to have a long serious talk.

   Still, Lex stood, trying to swallow the large lump in his throat that kept him from being able to speak.  He licked at his dry lips and then wiped them with a shaking hand as the judge and the rest of the courtroom looked on.

   "Mr. Luthor," Judge Stone spoke up again.  "We need a decision if we are to continue."

   Lex's fingers began to wrap tightly around each other and then released, only to make the same motion again a split second later.  It was a nervous reaction that Lex had inherited from his mother and had taken from childhood into his adult years.  His arms shook with each passing of the finger over each other, and Lex kept squinted his eyes as if trying to force out some type of decision through his tear ducts.

   These movements did not go unnoticed by most of the on lookers, and Lionel was the first to see the similarities between his son and his late wife.  He watched as Lex struggled with his inner man to decide if and how Lionel should be punished for his sins against his son, and a small part of him broke.

   "Your honor," Lionel stood to address the judge much to the surprise of everyone including his legal team.  He tugged his tie to a straighten position as he looked across the room at the state man on the bench.  "My son has every right to hate me, your honor," he spoke slow and carefully.  His eyes drifted over to Lex who stood frozen staring at the judge.  "He has every right to hate me, because everything he has said is true."

   A few gasps were heard among the group.

   "Mr. Luthor?" The judge questioned.

   "It's true, judge," Lionel's stare drifted down to the table as his lawyers tried to call away his attention.  "After my son almost died, I did fake his death and hold him against his will."

   "Your honor," the head lawyer stood up again.  "I must ask that my client's words be stricken from the record.  He has been under a great strain and is speaking under direst."

   "Sit down, Smithers," Lionel pushed him back into his seat.  "I know what I am doing, and it's time I lived up to own mistakes."

   Lex finally found enough energy and turned his whole body to face his father.

   "That's right, son," Lionel spoke directly to him.  "I admit it.  I made a mistake and I thought I could protect you by holding you close to me, but I was desperate and I acted on the advice of my security chief who I now know was wrong, but I take full responsibility for my own actions."

   "Your security chief told you to kidnap your son, Mr. Luthor?" Judge Stone asked.

   Lionel nodded his head slightly.  "Yes, your honor, but it was I who agreed to act on his advice."

   "Who is this security person?" Stone flipped through the files.  "Why have I not heard anything about him before now?"

   "Mr. Randolph is no longer with us sir," a bailiff spoke up handing him a few pages.  "Mr. Randolph was scheduled to be here with the others today, but he had previously been held for psychiatric evaluation in the same hospital he had tried to hide Alexander Luthor when we received word that he tried to make an escape by climbing down on some tethered bed sheets from his second story bed room, but the sheets slipped and he fell to the ground landing on his head breaking his neck.  He died instantly."

   Clark could not help but fall back into his seat.  He knew that Randolph was being held because he had told what he saw Clark do to save Lex, and a great surge of guilt over took him as he covered his face with his hands.  Martha had seen this look enough to know what must have happen, and she wrapped her arms around her son.

   "And how lucky for you, Mr. Luthor," Judge Stone remarked as he was reading the report.

   "As I said. Judge," Lionel spoke up again.  "I hold only myself responsible for my act against my son."

   Lionel moved around the table and approached Lex.  "But I assure you son, that I did what I did for you."  His hand touched Lex's cheek.  "I wanted to protect you.  Morgan Edge had gotten to you once already, and I could not take the risk that he would return should he find out that he did not finish the job."

   "So you kept me locked up against my will," Lex found his voice again, but his words were filled with vile distaste for the man before him.

   "No, Lex," Lionel's voiced cracked.  "I kept you safe."

   Lex grabbed his father's hand that was resting on his face and twisted it away with a sudden surge of energy that made Lionel wince in pain as he held the hand out to his side.

   One of the bailiffs began to move forward, but the judge motioned for him to stand down, and they all watched attentively as Lex held his father at his mercy.

   "Alexander," Lionel's voice returned with force as he tried to pull his arm away from his son.  "You are hurting me son," he said sternly.  "I must demand you let go."

   "No," Lex leaned into his face.  "How does it feel to be at my mercy, father?  How does it feel to have someone else controlling your pain?"

   "Lex," Lionel pulled away violently hurting both of them in the process.

   Lex wrapped his good hand around his hurt one as he gritted his teeth.  "I hate you for what you have done to me and everyone in this room."

   "I said it was a mistake," Lionel nursed his sore arm under his good one.  "I made a mistake and I am greatly regretful for my actions, but I can not go back in time and change what has happened, Alexander.  All I can ask is that you accept my sincere regrets and we move on from this."

   It took everything Lex had to fight down his emotions as he stared into his father's eyes with all the hate and disdain he had built up over the years.  His short breaths were again labored and the quick rising and falling of his chest only helped to remind him of the recently healed ribs he had been so careful to keep coddled up until now.

   Lionel had started to stretch his arms out to his son, but the look in Lex eyes gave him a quick pause and he pulled them back.  He instead slipped his hands into his pocket and lowered his line of sight.  "I am sorry you feel this way, Alexander, and I hope some day you will be able to get past this."  His head rose suddenly.  "But know this, Lex.  What I did to protect you, I would surely do again if I thought there were no other way."

   Lex watched as his father turned and walked back to his seat.

   Clark tried to get a handle of what must have been going through his mind, but Lex was able to place his poker face over his pain again and he slowly turned back to the bench.

   "Well," Judge Stone commented.  "It appears we have a confession Mr. Luthor, but we have yet to charge the assailant."  He paused for effect and then asked, "Do you wish to file charges of kidnapping and imprisonment against your father, Mr. Luthor?"

   The room again fell deaf to him as he stared down studying his own hands again.  His mind was racing and his heart beating louder than he ever thought he had heard it before in his life, and still Lex struggled to feel some emotion other than the grief that was welting up inside of him that he hope would tell him what to do.

   "Mr. Luthor," Stone called out.  "I am afraid that if you do not wish to file charges against your father, that I must ask you to stop wasting any more of this court's time.  This case has been a disaster up until now, and I would like to make one legal precedence before we leave here today."

   Still Lex stood dumb founded as they all stared and he knew that each of them was going over all the details in their mind, and most had made his decision already, but this was Lex's choice to make, and he had to be truly sure before he spoke his next words.

   The clock on the wall ticked away until finally Lex squared his shoulders and looked up at the judge.  His face was strong and sure as he parted his lips and spoke the words.  "No, your honor," he said firmly.  "I do not wish to file any charges at this time."

   Judge Stone's face became stone cold as he looked down in disbelief.  His own shock was matched by several gasps and groans from others in the courtroom.  It took a long moment for him to regain his composure.  "Are you sure?"

   "Yes, your honor," Lex nodded not giving any indication to the sick sour churning that was going on in the pit of his stomach.  "He may be a sick old man," he continued.  "But in memory of my mother, I am choosing to remember that he is still my father, and for her I must allow him to remain free and live with his own guilt over what he has put us all through on his own terms."

   "Very well," Judge Stone nodded and turned to Lionel.  "I have no choice but to release you Mr. Luthor, but be assured that this court will be watching you very closely for the foreseeable future, and be advised that should any of the facts change in any of these cases and I find just cause, I will have you back in here in a real court trial so fast that it will make your overblown head spin.  Have I made myself clear?"

   "Yes, your honor," Lionel could barely contain his smile.

   "Good," he turned back to Lex one last time.  "And I advise you to look into that stature of limitation on filing charges against your father, and should you choose to go forward with this matter then I will gladly try this case."

   "Thank you, sir," Lex tried grinning slightly.  "But there won't be any charges or trial."

   Judge Stone slammed his gavel down one last time and called an end to the proceedings.  It was not long before he and the other court officers were gone.  Lex stood in the same spot as the others began to file out of the room.  Lana was the first to approach him.

   "I'm sorry things didn't work out the way we all thought," she smiled.  "But at least we can all put this behind us finally."

   "Thank you for your concern," Lex said even though his true emotions had become paralyzed.  He forced himself to leaned in when she hugged him. 

   "Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."

   "I will," he lied with a soft smile.

   Lana stepped away and Chloe took her place.

   "Chloe," he again forced a smile.

   "Welcome back to the world of the living, Lex," she gave him a big hug.  "I just hope Lionel has learned his lesson once and for all."

   "He hasn't, I'm sure," Lex grinned past his tired eyes.  "But thank you for saying so and for all the help you were in investigating this mess.  I'm sure if it had gone to trial, you would have helped put my father away for life."

   "Gee, thanks," she said with a quirky grin.  "I think."  A serious look came over her face as she thought back.  "It was a real experience, but I at least made one good friend out of this.  I just hope we meet again one day."

   "I'm sure who ever it is," Lex took her hands and spoke from the heart.  "They will never be able to forget you."

   "Thanks, Lex," Chloe wiped away a tear from her bright smile.  "That really means a lot."

   Lana was on her way out when Clark stopped her at the door.  "Lana," he touched her arm lightly.  "I have something for you."

   She watched as he pulled a picture from his pocket and handed it to her.  It was a portrait of the four of them at dinner in Gotham City that Bruce had taken for a remembrance of the night.

   A smile came across Lana's face as she saw the faces grinning back at her, and the sight of Bruce's warm smile.  Then her heart melted as she remembered how much she had come to care about this distant and cold man.

   "Alfred gave it to me before I got on the plane, and he said that Bruce wanted you to have it."

   Lana took the small pictured and admired it one last time.  Her eyes became distant as she handed it back to him.  "You keep it, Clark," she sighed.  "I have enough ambiguous relationships in my life, I don't need anymore."

   Clark took the picture back and shoved it his pocket.  Lana patted his arm as she passed by for the final time.

   Martha stood in the aisle next to Nell who was gathering up her stuff.  "It's over," she said with a slight grin.  "Are you okay with that, Nell?"

   Nell turned to face her with a disappointed glance.  "I think I am, Martha," she said with a soft sigh.  "I may never know what Lionel did to me back in his office and what effects all those drugs may have on my body for years to come, but I take comfort in knowing that I will never have to look at that man face ever again, and for that I am grateful."

   Martha hugged one final time.  "Well, you go home and let Lana drive the car to Smallville so you can rest," Martha said with her mother mode in gear.  "Jonathan and I will have you and Lana out to the farm for dinner one night."

   "That would be nice," Nell returned and walked away.  "See you, Jonathan," she waved.

   "Bye Nell," Jonathan said standing at his seat behind Lionel and his defense team.  He turned back and reached over the wooden fence and held Lionel by the forearm.

   "Jonathan," Lionel gave him a big toothy grin as he took notice.  "Can I help you with something?"

   Not sparing any of strength, Jonathan pulled the elder man to within six inches of his face and spoke with clenched teeth.  "You got away with everything this time, Luthor," he grunted.  "But so help me God, if you ever try and pull something like this on my family again, then I just might forget that I am a Christian."

   "What are you saying, Jonathan?" Lionel made deliberate eye contact.  It was a business tactic that he had used over the years to win the game of intimidation, but Jonathan was not backing down.

   "I'll make it easy for you to understand, Luthor," Jonathan's nostrils flared.  "You harm my family ever again, and I will be standing trial for your murder."

   Lionel tried desperately to maintain his smile, but it was clear to him that Jonathan had won this game of fear, and he pulled his arm away with a creased brow.

   "Jonathan," Martha touched her husband's shoulder.  "We should leave now."

   Pulling his attention away from Lionel, Jonathan nodded in agreement at his wife, and he allowed her to lead him back into the aisle.

   "I'll get the paperwork started on getting the charges dismissed against you in Smallville, Jonathan," Bill Ross stopped at the end of the row of seats.  "Once I have Lex swing by the court house and sign the papers, I am sure the charges will be dropped instantly."

   Martha made her way over to Clark who stood by the door watching Lex in his silent vigil in the same spot he had been in for the last ten minutes.  "I know a lot of people may not agree," she opened touching his arm.  "But I think Lex did the right thing."

   "I know, Mom," Clark agreed.  "The guilt of sending Lionel to jail would have eaten away at him for years to come if he had gone through with the charges, so it is much better for him even if its not what Lionel deserved."

   Martha hugged her son.

   "I just hope Lex can get past this," Clark added.

   "He will, Clark," Martha smiled up at him.  "All he needs is a little help from his friends."

   Clark grinned back at her.  She understood his concern for Lex like too few people ever could, and for that he was grateful.

   "Are you driving with us, son?" Jonathan walked up to them.

   "No," Clark replied with a short pause.  "Alfred arranged for us to get a rental until Lex could get his assets back, so I thought I would drive it to Smallville for him."

   "Oh, okay," Jonathan reluctantly agreed.  "Well, don't be home too late, son."

   "Actually," Martha kept looking between the two of them.  "Perhaps it would be better for Clark to stay at the mansion for a few days until Lex gets use to being home and alone again," she suggested knowing that it was what her son wanted.  "I mean, Lionel still thinks that Morgan Edge might be out to get Lex again, so having Clark around for a little while might help to calm everyone's nerves."

   Jonathan looked up at his son and thought for a minute.  "Okay, Clark," he shrugged.  "Just make sure you are home for a few hours everyday to help with your chores.  We are coming up on harvest time, and we can't be neglecting the farm any more than we already have."

   "Sure, Dad," Clark hugged his father.  "Everything will be back to normal in a few days, I promise."

   "Mr. Luthor," Perry White approached Lex.  "I just wanted to say that I hope you are feeling better really soon, and when you are ready someday, I would love to get an interview with you for the Planet.  It's a darn shame that government secrets are going to keep me from penning a by-line on this story, but an exclusive with Alexander Luthor would sure go a long way in making up for the lost."

   Lex looked down at his hand when he shook it.  "I think we can arrange that," he smiled up at Chloe who was still standing with him.  "So long as we can include the Daily Planet's newest and brightest cub reporter," he shot her a small smile and a wink.

   "Oh, Lex," she blushed.  "I was just an intern and my summer job is over."

   "But you were a darn find one," Perry draped his arm around her shoulders.  "I just hope you will apply for an internship again next year, because I can assure you that you have my vote for approval."

   "Thank you, Mr. White," Chloe grinned.  "I will definitely be back."

   "We need to get back on the road, honey," Gabe Sullivan walked up to his daughter.

   "Sure, Dad," she said hugging both Lex and Perry one last time before walking away.

   Once they were alone, Gabe shook Lex's hand.  "I just wanted to say welcome back, Mr. Luthor."

   "Thank you, Gabe," Lex returned.  "Oh, and I understand there may have been some mix up about your having a job with Luthor Corps after testifying against my father, and I just want you to know that you can put that fear to rest."

   "Thank you, Mr. Luthor," Gab beamed a large smile.

   Lex patted his shoulder.  "I'll be back in a few days once things are settled with my legal assets, so we can talk more then."

   "Sure," Gab shook his head and walked away.

   Chloe hugged Clark at the door.  "I'm glad this has all worked out for the most part," she told him.  "I'm just sorry so many people got hurt in this mess."

   "Me too," Clark gave her a gentle smile.  "I also want you to know that I spoke with Alfred, and he promised that if he heard anything about or from Salina Kyle, that he would email the Torch with his findings as soon as possible."

   "Thanks Clark," she grinned with a sweet smile.  "You're a true friend."

   "I hope so," Clark's sight drifted to Lex who was standing alone again.

   Chloe patted his arm one last time before her father took her hand and lead her from the room.  "Take care of Lex for me, and I'll see you back in Smallville."

   When Chloe had left and the room seemed sadly quiet, Pete Ross finally got up from his seat and walked over to Clark.  "Hey," he grunted with a disappointed tone.

  "Hey," Clark returned softly.  "I'm sorry things didn't turn out like you had hoped."

   Pete shuffled his feet and shifted his hands in his pockets.  "I know," he sighed.  "Lex really blew it this time."

   His statement disappointed Clark, but he wasn't about to give in to Pete's resentment of the Luthors.  He knew his friend was a good and kind person, and if Lex had not been born with the same last name as Lionel, then he might have even given the young man a chance, but those were things better left for a perfect world, and Clark knew he and his closest friends did not live in that perfect place.

   "Some people might say that Lex actually saved the day, Pete."

   Pete shrugged his shoulder.  "And some people might still be wrong, Clark," Pete said as he took a step past him.  "I still say Lex blew it big time."

   Clark waved to Pete's back as he walked out of the room.  "See you back in Smallville, Pete.  I'll call you after my chores, and we can go get some cold drinks down at the Talon tomorrow."

   Pete, with his shoulders hung low and one hand still in his pocket, waved back his approval, and then he too was gone.

   The courtroom suddenly felt large and empty as Clark looked back at Lex from his stance at the door.  The only other people in the room were Lionel and his two remaining lawyers, who were going over some last minute paperwork in the corner.

   Lex stood silent and still as he watched the judge bench for no other apparent reason but to have somewhere to focus his sight.  Clark made his way down the aisle and stood silently next to his friend.

   After a few minutes, Clark allowed his stare at the bench to waver, and he turned his head to the left to look at Lex's face.  "So," he spoke softly with a slight hint of amusement.  "Not exactly a 'Law and Order' moment, was it?"

   "Pete was right," Lex said slightly above a whisper.  "I blew it, didn't I?"

   Clark looked away again.  "I don't know, Lex," he sighed rocking on his heals slightly.  "I would like to think things might have worked out for the better."

   "Everyone wanted me to put Lionel in jail," Lex grunted.  "I was the last chance of hope for anyone getting restitution from him."

   "Revenge is not restitution," Clark reminded while still rocking.  "I'd like to think that this whole mess is over, and now no one has to feel bad for anything they might have done to punish someone else."

   "I feel bad, Clark," Lex squinted his eyes.  "I feel bad because I let my father get away with all his horrible acts, and he will never feel sorry for what he did."

   "That's where you are wrong, son," Lionel's voice came up behind him.

   Clark turned quickly and saw that they were the last remaining three people in the dimly lit room as the bailiff has just lowered the lights.  "Mr. Luthor?"

   "Clark," Lionel showed his soft side for a moment.  "Could I have a moment alone with my son?"

   Clark looked at a reaction from Lex's face.  "I'm not sure that's a wise idea," he began to make excuses as Lex reached out, still not losing his sight of the bench, and placed his hand on Clark's shoulder.

   "It's okay, Clark," he spoke softly again.  "My father just wants a minute to turn the final screw.  It's the Luthor way."

   Clark wanted to fight Lex on this, as he knew in the pit of his stomach that it was wrong to leave Lex with Lionel for even a moment, but he respected his friend enough to agree.

   "Okay," Clark placed his hand over Lex's on his shoulder.  "I'm going to go wait by the door, but I'm not leaving this room."

   Lex pulled his hand away and gave Clark one last glance.  "Thank you, Clark."  He then returned his sight to the bench.

   Once Clark was in place at the door, Lionel walked around to the front of his son until they were face to face.  He wore a great wide grin as he inspected Lex from head to foot.  "Son," he gushed.  "I can not tell you how it warms my heart to see you doing so well."

   "No thanks to you, of course," Lex spat softly.

   "No," Lionel nodded.  "No, I have to agree with that.  I had no real idea how much we were harming you when you were back at Luthor Corps."

   Lex remained silent even after Lionel paused to see if there would be a reaction.

   "I," Lionel began again with what appeared to be grief in his eyes.  "I can not tell you how bad I feel for what you have gone through, but I want to assure you that I thought I was doing my best to protect you son.  We needed to hide you so Morgan Edge would not be able to get to you again."

   "And you framed the Kents so he wouldn't know he had gotten to me in the first place." Lex spoke with anger.

   "Yes," Lionel looked away.  "I was scared and felt cornered, so I reacted instinctively and I tried to throw the trail off so Morgan would not know he had bested me."

   Lex's jaw began to tense up and his fist were clench by his side.

   "Lex," Lionel took his face between his hands.  "It was wrong and I know that now, but I have to tell you that at the time it was the only option I had, and given a chance to do it all over again, I am not sure I would have changed anything."

   "Is," Lex stumbled on his words through his anger and rage.  "Is this your idea of an apology?"

   Lionel pulled his hands away quickly.  "I am not sure if I truly have anything to apologize for, Lex," Lionel truly believed what he was saying.  "Yes, I am sorry that you felt hurt and grieved through all of this, but I would think you would also want to thank me for saving your life and getting you out of harms way."

   The shaking began to overtake Lex's body as he tried to keep from losing his self-control.

   "Lex," Lionel almost screamed with joy.  "We are alive and free, again.  It may have cost nearly a third of my empire to obtain a government pardon, but we have done it and worked together to save each other."

   Lex looked at his father's face for the first time that day.  His brow was creased and his eyes seemed to be dark with anger.  "Saved each other?" Lex's repeated.

   "Yes, son," Lionel patted his arms.  "I am thanking you for not letting them put me on trial for saving your life."

   "You almost killed me, father," Lex spat.  "Those drugs and subtle forms of torture drove me out of my mind, and your lies almost made me snap for good.  How could you say that you saved me?  You almost killed me in a worse way than Morgan Edge could have ever dreamed up."

   Lionel stepped back with surprise.  "How," he stuttered.  "How could you possibly say that?  You're my son and I love you Lex.  I would do anything to protect you."

   "No, father," Lex screamed at the top of his lungs.  "You were saving the Luthor name and valor.  You couldn't care less if I were dead or alive, but you would not let the Luthor name be attacked by some mad man mobster who had his sights on you all along."

   "Lex," Lionel swallowed hard.  "You are not clear on what you are saying.  I care about you, son."

   Lex pulled his father's collar and grunted into his face.  "You never really cared about me, Father.  I was always a simple waste of your time whom mother made you drag along like a rag doll because she thought we would grow closer."

   Lex's chin was quivering and his jaw was still clenching as he spoke.  "Then when I lost my hair in the meteor storm, you no longer thought I was some little pansy waste who had no real back bone for your idea of business, but you now thought of me as some freak.  You could barely stand to have me in your house, much less love me like the son I was."

   "That's not true, Alexander," Lionel seemed to be pleading.

   "What little love you may have had was lost forever on the day mother died," Lex continued with total disregard for his father's emotions. "After she was gone, no boarding school was far enough away, and on those rare vacations when I was allowed to come home, you would find a hundred reasons not to be there."

   When his words had stopped, Lionel reached up slowly and pulled himself free from his son's grasp.  He straightens his collar and then turned away.  All he could hear was the heaving huffs of Lex's breathing behind him as he allowed his thoughts to drift to the past.

   "What happened, father?" Lex spoke up again after a few silent seconds.  "Did I bring the truth too close to the surface for you to handle?"

   Lionel raised his face to the heavens and took a deep breath.  "You are wrong about so many things, Lex.  My years of trying to mold you into a man to be reckoned with has also made you hard to the truth of my true feelings for you."

   Lex backed up to one of the tables and leaned rested his back against it.  "Then why don't you fill me in, father?  Why don't you tell me how you really feel about your son who has been such a disappointment to you his whole life?"

   "And again you have gotten it wrong," Lionel said with a sigh.  "You are not my enemy, son, nor do I hate you.  I love you, Lex."

   Lex let out a grunt of disbelief.  "You love me so much that you could never spend two minutes in the same room with me until I was your prisoner.  Tell me how that kind of love works, father."

   Lionel lowered his head and closed his eyes.  "Do you remember your mother's face, Lex?  Do you remember her long red hair and her full cheeks?"  Lionel's voice drifted off slightly.  "Do you remember her eyes?"

   Lex had to struggle to get a mental picture of his mother in his mind again.  It had been so long and his young mind has glazed over the mind's eye of the only woman he had ever truly loved.  "Yes," he finally said.  "I remember."

   "Her eyes," Lionel said as if he were taking in the scent of a sweet rose.  "They were so bright and blue, Lex.  When I looked into them, I could see the world as it should be and how it could have become had she lived to fulfill her dreams.  Each time I looked into them, I lost myself in her love for me.  She was the one person who truly understood me with all my faults and shortcomings.  Her eyes were a world safe from reality where we could live and not give a care for the problems around us."

   "This is all really romantic, father, but where does that give you permission to ruin my life?" Lex cut him off callously.

   Lionel turned to look at his son again.  "You have her eyes, Lex," he said softly.  "Your eyes have always been so deep and blue just like your mother's, and I have always been able to see the promise of my lineage in them.  When you were young, I feared your eyes and all the promise and hope that they held that I was expected to deliver to you."

   Lex turned his head slightly away as Lionel continued.  "When you lost your hair, your eyes lost a little of their spark and promise, but they were still bright and hopeful, but I felt in my heart that your loss would weigh heavily on you and I was sure you would never be able to over come your handicap, but you proved me wrong, son.  In fact, your mother was the only one who predicted that you would be the strong and self assured man you have become."

   Closing his eyes, Lex tried not to let his father's words dig any deeper into his heart than he was able to bear, but he knew that the elder Luthor was treading on his soul.

   "Then she died, Lex," Lionel's voice almost broke again.  "The love of my life and only woman who would ever truly understand me was gone, and I was heart broken beyond words, but there you were with her eyes.  She was gone and would never return, but still her eyes were watching my every move through you."  He again lowered his head and slightly tilted it to one side.  "So I knew I would loose my mind if I had to look at those eyes every day, and it only became easier to just avoid them and to keep sending them away, and that is what I did Lex.  I never rejected you son, but I had to find a way to get away from her eyes."

   "And then you took me prisoner," Lex snapped at him.  "Very good story, father, but the pieces don't actually fit together perfectly. Where does the friendly hostage thing enter into the equation?"

   Lionel raised his head and met Lex's angry gaze and he took a few steps forward.  "On that night, Lex," his voice was actually a slight bit horse with grief as he spoke.  "The night I got the call and we rushed you to the hospital, I looked down into your face and I called for you, but your eyes never opened.  Your mother's eyes never looked back at me like they have all these years.  It was then that I panicked after a few hours we had put all the pieces together that someone was gunning for you, and I knew I could not let you die or stay in harms way.  I needed to save Lillian's eyes."

   Lex studied his father closely as he too studied his son.

   "I could not let the last part of your mother leave me, so I did what I had to do to make sure that you were safe," Lionel told his son.  "I never meant for you to be so tortured and unhappy.  All I could do was keep you under control until I could find a way to make you understand.  To make you want to help me help you, and then one day, you were supposed to understand, Lex. You were suppose to thank me, son."

   Lex's eyes grew dark again.  "Thank you?"  You almost killed me."

   "I told you that I did not mean for those things to happen," Lionel insisted.  "I love you Lex, and now here we are and you are healing nicely, Morgan is gone, hopefully forever, and you are alive because of my quick action in working on your behalf."

   Lex had to look away from his father.

   "Please, Lex," Lionel pleaded.  "You have to understand why I did the things that I did.  You have to understand it was for your own good."

   "No, Father," Lex, snapped again.  "It was because of your perverse need to keep the memory of your dead wife alive in your sick little mind any way you had to do it, and I never even figured into that equation.  I was just the body that held the eyes that looked like hers."

   "That's not true, Lex," Lionel shook his head.

   "Please leave," Lex grunted as he stared down.  "I can't stand the sight of you right now."

   "Lex," Lionel reached out his hand.

   "Get out!" Lex slapped it away.  "You are not my father and I am not your son any longer.  Get out of my life."

   Lionel shied away from him with a less than hurt look on his face.  Even in dealing with his only son, Lionel did not allow his true emotions to be reflected in his face, but still the small jittering of his left eye gave notice of the man who was grieving inside.

   Walking slowly to the defense table, Lionel picked up his briefcase and note pad off the table and tucked it under his arm.  He turned back and stopped one finally time before his son who sat on the plaintiff's table.

   "I understand that you are very upset with me right now, Alexander," Lionel said in a calm level voice.  "But some day you will want to talk and we will sit down and discuss this like reasonable and intelligent men, and when we do, I will help you truly understand why I did what I did, and then," he shook his finger with a smile.  "You will thank me, Alexander, and I will accept it open heartedly, and we will again be father and son."

  Lex did not say a word.  He allowed his father to have his last breeze of hope, and then Lionel turned his back to him.  The grief and full range of emotion was churning inside of Lex as he watch his father walk away towards the door leading to the judges chambers where he still had paperwork to finish.

   "Father," Lex looked up and called out.

   Lionel turned with a wide grin.  "Yes, my son."

   Lex slid off the desk and took a few steps towards his father.  When the were nearly two feet apart, Lionel could see Lex's nostril's flaring and his jaw clenching.  Lex stared deep into his father's eyes as he spoke with a raspy husk of a voice.  "Mr. Kent is always quick to remind me that even when we think we have gotten away with something, there is always a higher power watching and keeping track of all the horrible deeds."

   "Your point, Lex," Lionel grunted.

   "I hope Mr. Kent is right," Lex replied leaning in close to his face.  "Because right now I pray you burn in hell for what you have done to me and all these people.  I hope your flesh leaves a stench in the bowls of hell for all eternity, because it is no less what you deserve."

   Lionel stepped back from his son's wicked gaze.  He opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead chose to remain silent.  He turned slowly and continued his journey out of the room as Lex return to the table and leaned his backside against it again.

   Clark waited a few minutes and then walked up to Lex and rested on the same table about a foot to his right.  Lex kept his gaze plastered to the floor and never looked up again.  Not sure what to do next, Clark remained silent for a long while until he heard Lex part his lips.

   "Clark," he said softly.  

   "Would you like to be alone?" Clark finish after a few moments of silence.

   "Yeah," Lex returned in a short breath.

   Slowly Clark stood up and began to turn away.

   "Clark," Lex said again.

   "Yeah, Lex," he returned over his shoulder.

   "Don't leave the room," Lex gasped. "Please."

   Clark walked with careful steps to the other side of the table and sat in one of the wooden chairs and watch his friend's shoulders begin to shake.  Lex was slowly becoming drawn in by his emotions, but he still fought to keep control, but it was a battle he was sorely losing.

   Leaning forward on the table, Clark held out one hand in the air towards Lex.  As if sensing his friend's comfort, Lex reached his right hand back without even looking, and clasped tightly onto Clark's raised hand.  Clark in turn placed his free hand over Lex's and held the warm shaking hand as Lex sobbed quietly on the edge of the table.

   If life were a movie, then here is where the instrumental music would begin to play, and the camera angle would raise to the ceiling while still keeping the two young men in focus at the center of the large darken room.  The reel of credits would begin to roll up onto the screen as the lights continued to dim and the music began to grow louder and envelope all the other sounds.  The light of the room would grow darker and eventually the two friends would no longer be seen and the words would roll across a black screen, and we would know that the story was complete and finished, for now.

 **The End**

Hey guys, it's Christin. I'm the editor of this amazing piece you just all cried over. I'd like to (one) thank you so much for reading, and (two) thank you for putting up with me. I know that I missed some details, and even a chapter or two, but you stuck though it. It was all worth it just to read what Rick thinks. Please, everyone thank him for writing this beautiful piece. I hope to see you again when he starts his next epic! ^_^

(Christin asked if I could allow her to say a few things, and after all the work she has done, how could I say no.  Besides, she knows a good thing when she reads it.  = o ) )

***** Notes *****

Okay, so here it is.  The fat lady has sung and she exits stage left.

I hope you have all enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  My heart is sad as I write these final words.  I have gotten so many wonderful responses from so many of you, that it has been heart warming and a pleasure to know that someone else enjoys my vision of the Smallville gang and how I was able to describe their adventures.  I have truly been humbled by your responses.

This is the last time I will be able to respond in this manner on this story, so let me get to it.

To: Angledust: Thank you so much for reading and letting me know that I have achieved the goal I wanted to by weaving all the subplots together where they all made sense.

To MitchPell:  Thank you again for your constant support.  I'm glad you liked the Pete and Clark part.  I had almost forgotten that I put that line in there about Pete doing what he did for Clark and not the other reasons.  I often get surprised when someone review and sees something I either forgot about or had not even truly realized I had put into the story.  Your keen eye and excellent advice has been a real saving grace through this whole story.  Thank you so much.  I only hope you liked the way this has all ended, and I don't get a ton of hate mail for letting Lionel off the hook so easily.

To Lauren: Thank you for the sobs.  I've got misty eyed a few times writing and rereading this story along the way.  It's nice to know it had the desired effect.  I just hope it wasn't too sappy.

To Merrie:  MY HERO.  Looking over the previous reviews, I noticed that you were always there with a great response and a helpful word with every chapter.  Thank you so much for reading and for letting me and everyone else know how much you liked the story.  I cannot clearly state how much it has truly meant to me.  I liked writing the Lex scenes allot, and I realized that I may have risked the chance of sounding slashy, but I felt this story warranted it.  I am also becoming more as ease with people calling my story Clex stories so long as they remember that these two guys love each other as friends but not as lovers.  It's just a very close and caring friendship; which I doubt they could ever truly have and become the people they become

To Robyn:  My last shout out to you.  Thank you so much for your support along the way.  It has meant allot.  I like to think the tears are over now, and Lex will heal.

To DarkAngel:  Thank you for your support and reading.  I liked the scene with Lionel too, and I tried hard to keep him from being the two dimensional character he may have appeared as in my earlier chapters.  He's still a cruel and mean man, but deep down he does care for Lex, for whatever reasons they may be.  The part with Alfred was sparked by a sermon a while back in my church.  The point is that sometimes we spend so much time plotting and praying for a miracle, that we sometimes forget to expect, recognize or accept it when God delivers it.  Sometimes we need to just get out of God's way or at least move onto the next step.

Well that covers it.  I hope you have all enjoyed the story and are not too mad that I let Lionel off the hook.  I try to keep my stories as close to being able to be part of the show as possible, so I don't try and change anything that would destroy the plot line of the series.  I realized that there were a few less than perfect parallels.  Lionel was not blind in this story, but he was also not blind when I started writing this.  However being blind would not have worked here, so I let that go.  Whitney didn't hang around an extra week after the storm, but I felt I needed him in this story at the beginning.  I will also not ever forget what his character meant to the show.  I think he was thrown away much too soon, and could have been worked in to do some really major good stuff.  I'm hoping he'll be found alive somewhere and show up from time to time again.  I still have some major ideas for him in any future stories I may write, so Whitney lives on.

To Marrie, MitchPell, Robyn, Suz, Teri, Angledust, Dark Angle, Ingrid Mathews, Timber Lover 360, Bennan, Lacasta, JellyBeany, Devte De Troy, Aino, and Lauran along with the rest of you who took the time to write and review at least once along the way, thank you sooooooooo much.

A special thanks to Christin for not only helping me, but for inspiring me and for keeping everything within working order on this story along the way.  I could not have done this with out her.

I plan to take a little while off from Smallville writing and work on some other projects, (Some may even find their way to the FF.net sight.) but I have at least one more Smallville epic in the dark recesses of my mind somewhere, so I hope to be back with it some time this summer or early fall, and I promise I'll try and have it all done before I post so you won't want to kill me for taking so long.  Until then, I will be reading and enjoying.  Please feel free to write if you have any questions or would like to just talk about fan fiction in general.  I know I will miss hearing from you guys on a weekly basses. The address is phaze238@worldnet.att.net .Please place something in the note section that will clue me in to why you are writing or where you got my address so I don't get scared and delete you before I read it.

**Thanks again, with my best wishes and God's Blessings on all of you.**

**Phaze**


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